


Conventional is Overrated

by snap_crackles



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baze is secretly a sap pass it on, Chirrut is the Cool Dad, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Bonding, Team as Family, accidental kitchen fires, because i want her to exist, bodhi rook is the sweet brother everyone will die for, grandma malbus exists in this universe, kaytoo has so much love for his family thats buried under a layer of grade A jerk, lilo and stitch is the family bonding movie, my kids are growing up, sad children sharing a bed, there's a lot of singing in this fic, you can fight me about this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9220169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snap_crackles/pseuds/snap_crackles
Summary: Baze lives for Sunday night dinners, watching the kids help around the kitchen like they always used to do. Bodhi’s chopping up bell peppers with the brightest smile on his face, listening to the bickering between Jyn and Cassian who are both shredding cheese. Kay remains focused on kneading the pizza base, occasionally throwing in his sarcastic two cents, and Chirrut—“You guys wanna hear a joke?” His husband chirps from his spot on top of the island counter top. The kids simultaneously groan, and Baze has to fight the grin itching to grow on his lips. “What cheese always feels alone?”“Gee, I don’t know.” Jyn says dryly. “What?” She turns around, arms crossed, and even though her eyebrows are knitted and her lips are pressed tightly together, it’s ridiculously obvious that she’s also fighting a smile, and Chirrut… Chirrut laughs.“Provalone.”OR… the Modern AU where Baze and Chirrut are happily married and adopt four kids over the course of their adulthood and everyone is happy in a family that’s not exactly built on the conventional, but hey man, it works.





	1. Little Bodhi Rook

It begins with a small boy named Bodhi Rook.

He has crudely stitched patches on his jeans, and an over-sized sweater that hangs over his small frame. He dons sneakers that look worn out, and under a mop of shaggy dark hair are a pair of brown eyes looking straight up at Baze Malbus with a glint of pronounced _fear_.

Baze’s heart sinks upon looking at the kid, because _Jesus, he looks like he’s five or six, and it’s the middle of December, 10 PM Eastern Time, and it’s below freezing, and there’s frozen tear tracks on his face and Jesus..._

Baze lets out a half- whispered swear.

“You’re a firefighter, aren’t you?” The boy asks, and despite the quiet decibel of his tone, it seems to carry in the parking lot as Baze crouches down to get at eye-level with the kid.

“Yeah I am.” Baze confirms, taking off his coat and slinging it gently over the boy’s shoulders. He can feel the child _shake_. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s too cold out here for you.” Offering the boy a hand, he leads Bodhi to the fire station, the boy gripping tightly onto his fingers and sticking close to his side, like the child’s afraid to be taken away.

“Malbus, did you forget…” A firefighter at the front desk currently sorting through paperwork falters mid-speech when his eyes land on little Bodhi, peering from behind Baze’s leg. “Oh…”

“Caldwell, if you could, can you please get a water bottle warmed up?” Baze asks (commands) gruffly as he gently pushes Bodhi forward in the direction towards a group of armchairs. He allows a (rare) encouraging smile when the boy looks back at him with uncertainty.

“I’ll be right on it,” Caldwell says, standing up immediately from behind his stack of papers and disappears behind a wall. Under the bright fluorescent lights, Baze looks over at the kid and studies him hard as he reaches into his pocket for his phone.

The boy in the meantime fiddles nervously with a piece of paper that’s been crumpled in his hand…

Lifting the phone to his ear, Baze waits patiently for the receiver to pick up.

“Baze?” A man on the other end of the phone sleepily asks.

“Chirrut,” He replies briskly. “I’ll be coming home late tonight.”

“Paperwork?” a yawn.

“No…” He pauses, and when he looks up, the boy is watching him with concerned eyes, head tilted slightly to the side, the piece of paper in his hand curling at the edges… _he’s curious…and worried…_

“Baze?” Chirrut’s tone this time is soft and attentive. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Code Juvenile 6-12,” is all Baze could mechanically sigh into the phone before dragging a hand down his face. How many times over the years he’s had to call in law enforcement because of a child or infant dropped at the station’s doorstep, he has honestly lost count…

“Code— _what_?” Chirrut asks, momentarily confused (in his defense, he’s just woken up, thank you!) and Baze lets a fond smile spread on his face (it’s a tired, tiny thing), but he can picture his husband now, sitting upright in bed with a furrow between his brows. “Juvenile…that has something to do with a kid, yes?” Chirrut thinks out loud for a moment.

“Yeah,” Baze falters when his co-worker reappears with a mug in hand, making his way towards the boy. As Baze watches from his spot across the small room, Chirrut fills in the pause.

“Abandoned child?” He asks softly, because what else could it be?

“Yeah. Hey listen, I’ve got to sort this out. Incident filing… and stuff. I’ll see you later tonight, okay?” He runs a hand through his hair and watches as the little boy exchanges with Caldwell his slip of paper for the steaming mug of what Baze believes is hot chocolate.

“Okay… I love you.” Chirrut gently says. It’s not their thing to say ‘I love you’ — hell, they don’t do it often, and so when Baze can only make a ‘m-hmm’ sound, Chirrut lets out a huff of laughter before hanging up.

Pocketing his phone, Baze moves to where Caldwell is talking to the boy; making small talk like “what grade are you in?” and “where do you live?” and “ _where is your mom?_ ”

“Hey kiddo,” Baze kneels in front of Bodhi, the child still clutching onto Baze’s coat like it’s a lifeline. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Bodhi.” He says, and at first the boy doesn’t meet Baze’s gaze, opting to focus his attention on the insignia printed on Baze’s shirt that reads _NYC FIRE DEPARTMENT_ , but then he lifts his face, and Baze can see a little fire in the boy’s eyes… a little _boldness_. “My name is Bodhi Rook.” And he says it like his surname is _important_ , like he’s squeezing out the little pride he has, and Baze… Baze can’t help but feel drawn to the kid.

“And how old are you Bodhi?”

“Five years old, sir.”

_Sir._ The word tugs slightly at Baze’s lips.

“You have good manners Mr. Rook.”

“Mama said that manners go a long way.” Bodhi quietly replied, _and God, that kills him._

Caldwell clears his throat.

“You should read this,” The man hands Baze the wrinkled piece of paper that Bodhi had been holding onto.

 

_To whomever this reaches,_

_I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to raise my son anymore. As a mother who loves him dearly, it hurts me to part with my child, but I understand his needs and well-being must come first. It is to my understanding that the fire department can take in infants if need be. The shelters are full. The foster homes are too long of a walk away in this weather. Please, my son has no other family to go to. I only wish him to be in a happy home, where he will be loved and cherished._

_And to my son, my sweet boy—know that your mother loves you so much and I hope you understand. Mommy loves you so much…_

“Just in time for the holidays, huh?” Caldwell remarks wryly as Baze folds the paper and offers it to Bodhi, who looks at him with hesitation before slowly taking back his mother’s letter, and slipping it into one of the pockets of his jeans.

“Just in time for the holidays,” is all Baze can echo back before he stands up, Caldwell raising from his seat as well. “She left no name.”

“We can only run _his_ name through the system; her name will pop up.”

“So what now?” Baze asks, and Caldwell shoots him a knowing look. A look that says, _you perfectly know the routine by now, but you’re starting to like this kid, and you’re stalling._

“I’ll fill out the papers if you’ll call the P.D.? Or the foster care system to pick him up, either or…” Baze looks down at the kid, and Bodhi sits, swinging his dangling legs that are still too short to touch the floor, and he’s staring at his lap, waiting for the adults to tell him his fate.

“I’ll call the nearest foster home.”

 

Later, when the social worker grabs Bodhi by the hand to lead him away, the little boy looks back at Baze with his brown eyes that look a little lost and Baze can’t help but feel that _this is all wrong_.

 

“You’re thinking too hard. Spill the beans.” It’s a blunt statement coming from Chirrut when Baze finally slips into bed later that night.

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“Stiff muscles.” Chirrut jabs at his shoulder. “You’re not relaxed. You’re as rigid as a board.” Another gentle poke.

“What do you think about kids?” Is what Baze awkwardly asks once his husband finishes poking him. Chirrut, who had initially settled for resting his head over his husband’s heart, propped himself up, and Baze doesn’t even need to look over to see that the other man’s expression is of puzzled amusement.

“They’re fine I suppose. I won’t complain having them, and I would definitely be the Cool Dad, with a capital ‘C’ and ‘D’...”

“I’m serious, Chirrut.” Baze groans, but then the fool beside him giggles. “Don’t.” He warned, lifting a finger and poking Chirrut’s bare shoulder. “Don’t you _dare_.”

“Hi Serious, I’m _Dad_.” And while Baze tugs his pillow from underneath his head to whimper into it, Chirrut belts out in shameless laughter before prying the pillow away from Baze’s face. “But I mean it,” Chirrut says, lowering his head, just an inch from his husband’s. “I wouldn’t mind being a dad at all. We’ll be…” He kisses Baze’s forehead. “…the best fathers…” He kisses Baze’s nose. “…to have ever fathered kids.” He kisses Baze on the lips. “Now tell me about them.”

“Them?” Baze breaths, and Chirrut dramatically sighs, laying down with a fond smile on his face.

“Yes dear, _them._ The child at the station—tell me about them. I know they’re the ones you want to adopt. We wouldn’t be talking about this if you weren’t drawn to them in some way.”

“Well,” Baze begins, rolling onto his side so that they’re both face to face. “For starters, his name is Bodhi Rook, and he’s five years old with a sick mother who can’t take care of him anymore.” He pauses, and Chirrut reaches for his face.

“Go on,” Chirrut encourages gently.

“She’s currently checked in at the hospital; has been checked in since last night… they’ve been bouncing around friends’ houses—according to the last friend we had contacted, the mother’s been financially unstable because of her medical bills…and he’s just so _small_ , Chirrut.” Baze rambles and pauses again, like the concept of a small human being is new to him. “But there’s a _fire_ in him, I can tell. He’s quiet, but there’s a _strength_ there… Foster care, they can break a kid, and I know not all of the families are bad, and some can be quite nice, but he’s still so young…”

He thinks of a little boy with patched up jeans and a baggy sweater, with brown eyes and fidgety hands; a boy raised on careful manners, just bouncing from one foster family to the next, holding onto a slip of paper with the words _your mother loves you so much_ …

“And you just want to give him stability.” Chirrut whispers, tracing Baze’s face with his thumb. Baze nods.

“Well then, we ought to start decorating that unused room down the hall, yeah?”

Baze just kisses him.

 

* * *

 

They visit Bodhi on a Saturday. The little boy has his hair combed back and is wearing better fitting clothes that are in decent condition. When he first sees Baze, his eyes light up with recognition and a shy smile blossoms on his face.

On that day, they learn little Bodhi likes airplanes and one day he’ll be a pilot, so he can fly like a bird and feel free.

He likes space, fascinated by the endless stretch of stars and the unknown.

They learn his favorite color is blue, like the ocean, because they remind him of his mother, and how she used to take him to the beach, back when she was still healthy.

They learn that he loves to hear stories of all kinds, but his utmost favorites are stories from his mother—the Pakistani folklores—the stories told before bed…

Before the couple leaves, Bodhi tugs at their sleeves.

“Will you come back for me?” He asks, with a tone so uncertain it makes both men want to haul him out of the building and take him home. “I don’t think the other kids like me.” While the statement has Chirrut kneeling down to speak soft words of reassurance, Baze becomes intent on shooting warning glances towards a group of nearby boys wearing expressions of unmasked envy...

 

They visit Bodhi at the foster home as often as they can, bringing him checked out books from the library and spending countless hours with him. The shy smiles of hello and beginning hesitation melts away into eager conversations and bubbling innocent questions like “Are you ever scared of walking in fire?”

Bodhi Rook _shines,_ and as the months pass it makes both men slightly irritated that the domestic adoption process can’t go any faster.

“Patience, Baze,” Chirrut has to tell his husband one night before bed, four months into waiting. They had just come back from visiting Bodhi and had taken him around New York for his sixth birthday. “We’ll have him soon enough.” Chirrut may be blind, but he’s known his husband for many years. He follows Baze’s movement—the agitated pacing back and forth. “You’re doing nothing but wearing the floors thin, my dear.” He calls out, before hearing a shift in movement, change in steps, and then finally feeling Baze slump right next to him.

“It would be easier if we could just _break him out_ ,” Baze grumbles, and Chirrut snorts before leaning into his husband.

“And I’m the impulsive one in this relationship?” He quips, before burying his face into the crook of Baze’s neck. “I beg to differ.”

 

* * *

 

It’s nearing December again when Baze and Chirrut finally get Bodhi as their foster child. It’s not a permanent adoption yet, not when the Termination of Parental Rights from the biological parent can take up to an average of two years before the actual adoption can take place, but Chirrut and Baze decide that the legal portion can go ahead and take its damn time. Bodhi is with them, and for now, that’s all that matters.

When they walk Bodhi to his room, they all hold hands with Bodhi in the middle, whose eyes are wide as he takes in the surroundings of his new home.

“Wanna see your room now?” Baze grins down at the child between him and Chirrut, and Bodhi nods eagerly, loose tendrils swinging from where they frame his face, and _Jesus, this kid’s hair is getting long_. When Chirrut opens the door to reveal Bodhi’s room, the boy’s mouth literally falls open and there’s an audible gasp. Chirrut leans against the doorway, smiling as Baze gently prods Bodhi forward.

The room’s walls are painted with a smoothe navy and the ceiling displays the galaxy—stars of ivory spotting across hues of black, blue, purple and green. The once wooden flooring had been ripped out, and instead a soft cream carpet sits in its place. A desk is positioned next to the window with curtains and blinds that are drawn, sunlight cascading into the room and spilling onto the nearby bed. There’s a shelf with some books already lined up, and a toy box and… Bodhi stops to look at the picture frames that sit on top of his dresser. There’s a photo with the three of them, taken from his sixth birthday a few months ago, and there’s another photo…

This one, Bodhi picks up, and the tears begin to gather in his eyes before he can stop them. It’s of a woman holding him close, and they’re kneeling behind a sandcastle, and they’re smiling, and there’s sunlight collected in their hair…

Bodhi looks up.

“You gave me a picture of my mom,” He croaks.

“She was important to you, Bodhi. She will always be your mother.” Chirrut simply states as approaches and gets down to eye level with the boy. With his hand, his thumb brushes away the tears that have begun to fall. “We won’t ever let you forget her.” Chirrut feels a move of muscle under the pads of his fingers and he knows the boy is smiling. There’s a tinge of sadness there, but there is happiness too, and he thinks both are just as important to respect. He then feels small arms wrap around him and a repeated whisper of “thank you.”

Baze is the next to be hugged, and when Bodhi lets go, Baze says,

“Your mother’s old photo album is in the left drawer if you ever want to look through it. She gave it to us when we visited her in the hospital, do you remember?” Baze gazes patiently as Bodhi nods and swipes at his nose with his sleeve, sniffling. “She said to give it you when you have finally come to our care. So it’s yours now, and this way she’ll always be with you in some way, but most importantly, never forget that she’s here.” Baze pats a spot in Bodhi’s chest, right where the boy’s heart beats and the child nods. The older man tucks a loose curl behind Bodhi’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”

The moment is ruined when Chirrut’s stomach growls, and it elicits a set of giggles from Bodhi, who turns to look at his other foster-father in amusement.

“My stomach’s not okay!” Chirrut pipes up, and Baze rolls his eyes.

“Want to help me make lunch then?” Baze asks his new son, who eagerly nods. “Good! I could use some help.” Smirking as he stands, he jabs his thumb in Chirrut’s direction. “That old man is banned from the kitchen—”

“I’m not old!”

“I let him boil some noodles once, and it caught on fire!” At this tad-bit of information, Bodhi’s eyes widen with surprise.

“It was one time,” Chirrut pouts, walking over with an exaggerated frown on his lips. Baze snorts.

“Yes, one time too many, and I have since told myself never again will I ever let you near the stove.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Target is sighted. Over.” Bodhi whispers into his toy walkie-talkie.

It’s been almost a year since he’s been with his adoptive fathers; now seven years old and in the second grade… and currently wedging himself in-between the spaces of barstools.

“Target status?” Chirrut’s voice is barely audible above the sound of the roaring stove fan set on high and oil popping.

“The cookies are currently on the table. Dad One is busy at the stove. Over.”

“Do you think you can get to the cookies without getting caught? Over.”

“I think so,” Bodhi bites his lips. “Over.” He hastily adds.

“Proceed with target extraction. Use caution.” Chirrut warns. “Don’t trigger any alarms. Over.”

“Roger that.”

Bodhi sets down his walkie-talkie and peers from around the breakfast bar where he’s tucked amidst barstool legs.  Baze is swearing to himself, tending to the fish frying on the stove, paying no attention to the chocolate cookies nearby. Taking a deep breath, Bodhi begins to crawl.

Since he had moved in, Baze had established the rule that Bodhi’s not allowed to have sweets before dinner, but Bodhi helped make them, so he deserves to have one, right? Plus, Chirrut had said that _one_ cookie before dinner never hurt anybody…

When he reaches the table, he takes a quick glance over his shoulder to see his Baze now preoccupied with putting vegetables in a separate pan. Popping up to his feet, he swipes a few cookies before…

“Bodhi!” Baze barks. Bodhi freezes at his spot, eyes wide, heart thumping a _nd gosh-darn-it, he’s caught red-handed!_ Turning around, he sees his father, spatula in hand, looking over at him sternly.

_Run? Drop cookies? Apologize? Hide? Eat them on the spot?_ The possibilities run through his head as they continue the stare down, father and son.

“Dad said dinner smells good.” Is all he can manage to blurt out before speeding off, a kick of adrenaline causing a bubble of giggles to erupt as he makes his escape upstairs, cookies in hand.

“Bodhi! BODHI, GET BACK HERE!” Baze calls after him, unable to chase after the boy, lest he wants the house to burn down. “Young man!” He then returns his attention to his task at hand, grumbling to himself about that _unbelievable man-child being a bad influence._

Meanwhile, upstairs, Bodhi shares his acquired prize with Chirrut who praises him on a mission success and offers him a high five.

 

* * *

 

Baze is thankful for the one (but who’s he kidding, he really has two) children living in his house, who add color to his day-to-day life.

And then one day, Chirrut brings home a little girl named Jyn…


	2. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bodhi likes her and I like her! Two against one! We’re keeping her!”
> 
>  
> 
> In which Chirrut may have brought home an addition to the family without Baze's permission, Bodhi sings in the choir and is the best big brother in the world (according to Jyn Erso), Cassian Andor and Kaytoo need to stop stealing away said big brother, and Baze is just rolling with the punches.

Every day at around 4 PM, Chirrut flips the little sign hanging on the clinic’s window to “CLOSED” and waits for his assistant, a postgraduate student named Phil. Chirrut’s a physical therapist with his own practice: Force In Motion .

(Baze thinks it’s _hilarious_ and will laugh every time it’s brought up, to which Chirrut pouts and defends that it’s an _empowering_ name, thank you very much!)

He’ll hold out his arm, and Phil will take his elbow to guide him through the parking lot, the both of them settling into Phil’s beat up 2001 Toyota Camry. They’ll stop by the elementary school at around 4:40 to pick up Bodhi, the approximate time Bodhi finishes either choir practice or chess club depending on the day.

Today is a Tuesday, so it’s choir practice day, and they’ve arrived just in time to catch the last few minutes of rehearsal. When they enter the building, they are greeted by the sounds of children sweetly singing in the nearby cafeteria.

_Tell her to find me an acre of land:_  
_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;_  
_Between the salt water and the sea strands,_  
_Then she'll be a true love of mine._

Phil guides Chirrut down the hall and to the lunchroom where they find an empty table to sit.

_War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions._  
_Generals order their soldiers to kill._  
_And to fight for a cause they have long ago forgotten._

“Your boy’s up front.” Phil whispers. “He looks so happy that you’re here.” The statement makes Chirrut’s smile widen, and while he doesn’t ponder about his lack of sight that often, he wishes he could see his boy now.

_Tell her to reap it with a sickle of leather:_  
_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme;_  
_And gather it all in a bunch of heather,_  
_Then she'll be a true love of mine._

“They sound really good.” Phil comments quietly, thoroughly impressed.

_Are you going to Scarborough Fair:_  
_Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme._  
_Remember me to one who lives there._  
_She once was a true love of mine._

As their singing comes to a ceasing point, Chirrut stands up, followed closely by Phil, and both adults proudly clap. There’s the sound of footsteps descending from the risers, and the repeated “Well done,” from the choir director. Chatter among children fill the cafeteria, and a few minutes later, Chirrut feels a small hand slip into his.

“Hey, dad! Hello Phil.” Bodhi greets, and Chirrut places a hand on the boy’s head, finding that stray lock of hair and tucking it behind the boy’s ear. “You came early today!”

“I did.” Chirrut nods. “And you sang very well!” He praises. He feels Bodhi tug gently on his hand, an indicator that it’s time to go home. Leaving the building, Chirrut and Phil ask Bodhi about his day, and the boy entertains them with little stories of a classmate named Jon who was caught sleeping during math lecture and how they’re growing their own flowers for science.

(Bodhi had chosen tulips).

When they buckle up in the car, Phil looks over his shoulder.

“Hey Bodhi, school ends at 3:00, yeah?” His tone is laced with concern and the adult watches as Bodhi nods. Chirrut turns his head to the direction of his co-worker.

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nearing five in a few minutes, and there’s a little girl sitting out on the curb. She’s been there since we got here, but I figured her parents were running late…”

“We should ask when we pass by.” Chirrut decides. “Would you happen to know her, Bodhi?” There’s a sound of movement from the back seat, and he can envision Bodhi reorienting himself and craning his neck for a better look.

“No, dad.” Bodhi answers. “She’s so _tiny_. Maybe in kindergarten.” As Phil starts the car, Chirrut snorts.

“If I remember correctly, you were a tiny thing too at that age,” he quips playfully. “You were our little _Bodhi_ _Bug_.” He teases, causing Bodhi to groan in embarrassment.

“ _Daaaad_.”

Phil rolls up along the parent-drop-off lane and rolls down Chirrut’s window.

“Are you alright?”” Chirrut calls out. He hears a girl’s voice call out, “I’m fine.”

“Is someone picking you up?” Phil asks from the driver seat.

“Did Saw send you to pick me up?” She answers with a question, and Chirrut can sense the suspicion in her voice. There’s a sound of movement and Chirrut knows the girl has gotten to her feet, but she doesn’t approach the car. In fact, her footsteps seem to have taken her backwards.

_Smart girl._

“We don’t know anyone named Saw.” Chirrut says. “Does he pick you up often?” a pause.

“Sometimes he picks me up.” The girl says guardedly. “Sometimes he sends friends.”

“Are they usually this late?”

“No.”

Chirrut unbuckles his seatbelt and there’s a chorus of “What are you doing?” coming from Bodhi and Phil. With his hand on the door handle he shrugs.

“I’m going to sit outside and wait for whoever is picking her up.”

“Chirrut,” Phil says, a bit gently, which makes Chirrut shift his jaw. “I’m sure no one simply forgets to pick up their kid from school. There’s still some staff in the building. If she’s still out here late, I’m sure they’ll take care of it.” Chirrut makes no movement for a second, before shaking his head.

“I can’t do that.” He opens the door and steps out while Phil repeatedly calls out his name and Bodhi giggles in the background. Shutting the door behind him, he finds the curb with his cane and sits down.

If he had the ability to see, he would’ve seen Phil lower his forehead onto the steering wheel, lips muttering a prayer for patience…

“What are you doing?” The girl asks curiously from behind Chirrut. (Phil in the background kills the engine, and Bodhi watches the exchange between his father and little girl with curiosity).

“Waiting for your parents to come by. It’ll make me feel better knowing you’re safe.” He looks over his shoulder, and hears the girl take slow footsteps towards him.

“I don’t have parents.” The girl admits. Chirrut tilts his head in consideration.

“Then we’ll wait for Saw.” He hears the girl sit on the curb beside him, an arm’s length of space is established in between the two and silence ensues.

“Why are your eyes so blue?” She suddenly asks, tactlessly. Chirrut smiles.

“They’re called cataracts, and I’m blind.”

“Oh.” They sit in silence a bit more, until one of the doors of Phil’s car opens.

“I’m bored.” Bodhi grumbles, sitting in-between the girl and his father. “And Phil’s no fun. He’s just sleeping.”

“Don’t you have tonight’s homework and last week’s homework that you need to work on?” Chirrut asks casually and Bodhi scowls.

“Mrs. Evans told you about that?” He says in disbelief. The girl watches Bodhi with fascination.

“Mrs. Evans called me earlier today. Said she was putting in grades and couldn’t find your math homework that was due on Friday.” Chirrut hears a defeated groan and smiles. “You’re lucky she phoned me and not Baze. How about I give you an extra hour to stay up before sending you off to bed in exchange of you doing all your homework right now?” he bargains, and Bodhi’s eyes widen.

“Papa won’t let it happen.” Because Baze is strict and usually concrete on the few set rules they do have.

“Papa will let it happen if Dad pulls a few strings.” Chirrut smiled slyly. “And I _promise_ I won’t tell him about the late homework.” Bodhi studies his father for a moment before muttering “fine,” and standing up. “Deal.” There’s a sound of a car door opening and shutting, and once again, it’s just Chirrut and the girl.

“That’s my adopted son Bodhi,” Chirrut nods, and the girl looks through the tinted window and sees the boy stuck in thought. “He’s a good kid—just lazes off from time to time. He’s ten years old and in the fourth grade.” Chirrut faces the girl. “And what grade are you in?”

“Kindergarten.” She answers. “And my name is Jyn, spelt J-Y-N, and I’m six”

“Jyn,” Chirrut echoes back. “That’s a nice name.”

 

“It’s 6 o’clock, Chirrut,” Phil calls out tiredly from inside the car. “I’m pretty sure the last staff member just left. There’s no one here anymore and the sun’s already setting.”

Jyn looks at Chirrut with fear in her eyes…

_They’re going to leave me here._

Chirrut runs a hand through his hair before turning his head in Jyn’s direction.

“Would you be alright with us dropping you home?” He asked, and Jyn cautiously nods. She can trust this man. He’s stayed with her to make sure she was safe. He hasn’t tried to hurt her. He has a son of his own. She doesn’t have a reason to _not_ trust him.

(Actually, she has a million reasons, but he’s been nice so far.)

“If you’re nodding your head, I can’t see it.” He gently reminds with a small, amused smile. Jyn blushes.

“Yes, it’s alright.”

 

“I don’t think anyone is home.” Phil says after of knocking on the door and ringing the bell. They stand outside a one story, tan siding house with no lights on.

“Did Saw mention anything about not being home today?” Chirrut asks Jyn. “Did he tell you that you were supposed to go to someone else’s house tonight?” The girl crosses her arms and shakes her head.

“No.” She answers clearly. Phil raps his hand on the door once more, but nothing.

“Wait,” Jyn says. “Saw sometimes leaves my window open if I ever leave the house.” Chirrut and Phil raise identical eyebrows as Jyn dumps her bag onto the welcome mat. She takes off for the chain linked fence, Bodhi trotting curiously behind her.

(The two had got on well enough for the past thirty minutes they were together in the back seat.)

“Help me up.” She prompts the older boy, who drops and kneels on the grass. As she steps on his hand, he pushes her up and watches awestruck as she clambers over the fencing. “Thanks,” She says before darting around the corner. Bodhi makes his way back to the front door where the adults discuss in hushed whispers, and he keeps his distance, knowing that maybe this isn’t a conversation to be listening in on.

There’s a few minutes, and then the front door clicks before swinging open, revealing Jyn in the lit house, wearing the most confused look on her face.

“He left.” Is all she says softly. “He’s not here anymore.” She holds up some paper for Phil to take, and the young man grabs it eagerly, eyes scanning over the page.

“A goodbye letter,” Phil says, before flicking to the second sheet, “And a signed release of custody.” He snorts. “This guy must’ve had this paper for a while, but something came up, hence the current sloppy situation we’re in.”

There’s a small shuffle of footsteps and Jyn walks over to Bodhi who had slowly congregated back with the group.

“Right, I’m calling the cops.” Phil says, reaching into his phone.

“ _No!_ ” Jyn cried out instinctively. They all freeze and stare at the little girl. “ _Please_ don’t. Don’t let them take me away!” It comes out as a plea.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but it’s the only thing—”Phil doesn’t complete his sentence, not before Chirrut taps him on the shoulder.

“I’ll just bring her home with me tonight and discuss this with Baze. The Fire Department helps deal with child abandonment. We’ll figure it out.” He says calmly, and Phil looks at him as if he’s gone mad. Jyn also looks at Chirrut with disbelief, only her spirits slightly lift with hope.

“But—”

“ _We’ll figure it out_.” Chirrut states firmly before kneeling down. “Are you okay with this?” He asks Jyn, picking up her backpack that’s still on the ground. “If you’re not, is there anyone around that will take you in?”

“No,” She says, clutching the material of her hoodie. “Can I just go home with you?”

(In her head, she can hear Saw’s stern voice, lecturing her that trusting strangers equals danger, but she thinks she can trust this man better than any other stranger who will pick her up and send her away again to god-knows-where.)

 

It’s 7:30 when Phil finally drops Chirrut, Bodhi, and Jyn home. Bodhi slides the key in through the door, Chirrut hauls two small baggage cases of Jyn’s clothes, and Jyn trots in carefully, as if she’s not sure if she’s truly welcome here at all. Chirrut sets her bags by the shoe rack.

“Are you okay on the sofa tonight? I’m afraid we don’t have a spare bed.” Chirrut smiles apologetically, but Jyn is still looking around at the home—a home that actually _looks_ like a home.

(Saw’s place was spacious and sparsely decorated. He called it practical and less clutter some.)

“It’s fine,” she says softly.

“I’ll sleep down here too!” Bodhi chirps. “Like a slumber party! We’ll find a movie on TV to watch until bed time and everything!” Jyn looks over to him and tilts her head to the side, Bodhi’s smile fading just a little. “That is, if you _want_.” He hastily adds on. Jyn smiles a bit.

A slumber party.

She’s heard her classmates talk about them before, but she’s never had friends to have them _with_. And Saw… She tries to push the thought from her mind. Saw’s hosted plenty of slumber parties of his own—men and occasionally women walking through their front door with permanent frowns on their faces and bruises under their eyes, shouldering heavy-duty duffle bags, carrying contents that only Jyn can imagine …

“I’d like that, Bodhi.” She says, and his face brightens. Chirrut clears his throat and both kids look up to him.

“The downstairs bathroom is just down the hall, first door to your left.” He informs. “I’ll be on the phone for a bit with Baze, so if you need anything, Bodhi will help you out.” There’s a chorus of ‘okays’, and when Chirrut heads up the stairs, he hears Bodhi ask:

“So Jyn, are you hungry?”

 

* * *

 

“Hey babe, so I called you because something important has happened, but do you remember that night you met Bodhi at the station?”

“Yes, I remember that night very clearly.”

“And you remember how you asked me what I thought about having kids?”

“… _Yes_ …”

“Well… how do you feel about having another one?”

“What. Did. You. _Do_?”

“Now dear, that tone is really not necessary.”

“Chirrut—”

“So there’s this little girl who got abandoned last minute, right…”

“Chirrut, _I swear to God_ , if you did what I _think_ you’ve done—”

 “Now, now. She’s really lovely with a mysterious childhood—”

“Chirrut!”

 “Bodhi likes her and I like her! Two against one! We’re keeping her!”

“Chirrut, this is _not_ a _game_!”

“I love you too, Baze. I can’t wait till you get home. Bye!”

“Chirrut!”

 

* * *

 

When Baze finally gets home, he finds a brunette girl with a soft face tucked in on the sofa, fast asleep. Bodhi is sprawled out on the nearby love-seat, also knocked out. There’s a Harry Potter movie playing on TV, and when he looks up, running a hand down his face, Baze finds Chirrut leaning against the wall with a proud smile on his lips.

“They look like angels, don’t they?” Chirrut asks, walking to his husband.

“They do look peaceful _sleeping_ ,” Baze admits against his will when Chirrut hooks their arms together and snuggles up next to him. And then it hits him. Side-eyeing his husband, he deadpan states, “You’re blind.”

“I _am_ ,” Chirrut _giggles,_ “You have _fantastic_ observation skills; oh man how are you _not_ tired?”

At this, Baze doesn’t know what he wants to do more; kiss Chirrut to shut him up or whack the back of his head.

“What are we going to do?” He groans instead.

“Keep her, of course.”

 

* * *

 

They fix the paperwork.

They’re able to get Jyn as a foster child immediately with some heavy persuasion.

(Like Bodhi, she becomes officially adopted in two years.)

 

* * *

 

At first, Baze doesn’t know what to think of the girl, but he supposes he likes her. At first, she doesn't talk much. There’s a quiet fire in her though, and it burns more fiercely in her than it does in Bodhi. She has her guard up and doesn’t speak much about Saw or her parents, but that’s okay, and they leave the topics alone.

She’s also rather mature for her age, but something tells Baze that living with Saw doesn’t allow much room for immaturity. He supposes this is what softens her image to him—a little girl robbed of a chunk of childhood.

(His judgements are confirmed when she walks up to him on the fifth night as his foster child. He’s putting dishes away when she approaches him and she stands there, rocking on her heels, unsure of what to say. It was the day they had finally completed redesigning the downstairs office room into her personal bedroom. He prompts her to speak, and then she asks with uncertainty if he could read her a book before bed; there’s a doubt in her expression—like she’s sure he’s going to say no. He smiles at her instead and offers her his hand… He reads three chapters of _The Hobbit_ that night.)

 

* * *

 

If Jyn had to choose one person to be her favorite person in the whole wide world, it would be her older brother, Bodhi Rook.

Bodhi, who braids her hair while they’re watching TV.

Bodhi, who roller-skates with her around the block on the weekends.

Bodhi, who is the first to learn all her fears and sings the nightmares away.

 

She’s seven when she wakes up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. There’s tears in her eyes, and the word ‘father’ dies on her lips.

She had dreamt of gunshots in her childhood home and her father telling her to run and hide. She dreamt of running upstairs to hide in her closet, only to find the corpse of her mother staring back at her through hollowed eyes—

‘ _Jyn_ ,’ her mother had called out through pale blue lips. ‘ _Jyn_.’

And in her dream, she had turned around, only to see her father on his knees with blood on his shirt and love in his eyes—

‘ _Stardust_ ,’ he had said, over and over again as he coughed up blood…

Shaking, Jyn gets up from bed and leaves the room, climbing up the stairs in the dark. She pauses at her adoptive fathers’ door, but thinks better of it and moves on. She finds Bodhi’s room and slides in, shutting the door gently close behind her. She slips into his bed, still shaken from her dream and—

“Jyn?” Bodhi asks groggily, sitting up and reaching over for his bedside lamp and… _that’s right,_ _Bodhi’s a light sleeper_. “What’er you doing here?” He asks, squinting down at her.

“Scared. Bad dream.” Is all she says, peering up at him from under the covers which she had pulled over her head.

“About?” He asks, concern in his voice, a frown forming on her lips.

“Mom and dad.” She whispers. “I dreamt of their death.” It’s putting the story nicely, but she decides Bodhi can be spared the details.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Jay,” He says.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, please? Turn the light off.”

And so Bodhi does, but not before he kisses her forehead. She settles in closer to him when he lies down, because Bodhi is her big brother and can protect her from the world… protect her when she can’t protect herself.

“Sing me a song, Bee.” She says quietly, and Bodhi draws her in close.

_When the night has come_  
_And the land is dark_  
_And the moon is the only light we'll see…_

She closes her eyes. Yes, Bodhi is her favorite person in the world.

  
_No I won't be afraid_  
_Oh, I won't be afraid_  
_Just as long as you stand, stand by me…_

* * *

 

If Bodhi can sing away her nightmares, Jyn can scare away his bullies.

“It’s fine, Jay. Let ‘em laugh.” He says tiredly one summer when they’re out on the neighborhood swimming pool, a few kids around Bodhi’s age laughing at them from their little corner. “Just please don’t go after them.”

Jyn scowls.

“No, it’s not fine.” She pins him down with her trademark glare, but Bodhi’s immune to them by now, so he only stares back in exasperation.

“Let it go, Jyn.”

“No!” She crosses her arms and stubbornly lifts her chin. When he breaks eye contact and runs his fingers through his long hair, Jyn sighs. “I just wish you stuck up for yourself.” When Bodhi looks back at her, opening his mouth, she rolls her eyes. “I know—you don’t want to engage in conflict, but honestly, one day someone’s gonna kick your ass, and I won’t be there to stop it—what?”

“You just swore!”

“And? Baze swears all the time.”

“Calm down, you’re _eight_.”

 

That school year when Bodhi transfers to junior high, he makes friends with two boys named Cassian Andor and a kid named Kaytoo. According to Bodhi, the two had sealed their friendship with him when they came to his defense in a verbal call-out which resulted in a fist fight. It led to the three of them getting detention within the first week of school.

Jyn decides she likes Bodhi’s new friends, because they protect Bodhi and (hopefully) see the amazing human being he is.

 

* * *

 

Jyn changes her mind. She does _not_ like Cassian Andor and his know-it-all brother-friend, Kaytoo. They steal Bodhi away from her and shoo her like she’s a pesky pigeon on the streets.

It _angers_ her.

She wants _in_.

Bodhi was hers _first_.

“Ugh, Bodhi, you’re sister’s here.” Cassian grumbles one day, eyeing her from where he’s perched on top of her brother’s desk. Kaytoo is sprawled out on the floor, flipping through one of Bodhi’s books, eyes glazed over and expression _bored_. Bodhi shortly approaches from his closet shirtless, holding out two hangers of plaid-button downs.

“Hey Jyn!” Bodhi brightly greets her before turning back to his friends. “Blue or green?” He asks. Cassian opens his mouth to speak, but Kaytoo calls out “Burgundy sweater,” causing Bodhi to growl in frustration and once again, disappear into his closet. Jyn doesn’t miss how Kaytoo sniggers to himself, smirking as he flips another page.

Furrowing her brow, she walks into the room and sits on her brother’s bed, watching as shirts and pants fly out of the closet and land on the floor.

“Where are you guys even going?” She demands, because Bodhi hardly ever cares what he throws on in the morning, and this behavior is _new_.

“Mall.” Cassian replies casually without glancing at her. “Maybe movies.” When Bodhi reappears, this time donning a reddish-purple long sleeve, Cassian whistles nice and low, which earns him a glare from the recipient.

“Can I come?” She asks, ignoring the fact that the three boys are suddenly acting all weird and giggly. Her request is met with three swiveled heads, each person pinning her down with a different expression: Cassian is the face of annoyance, Kaytoo’s is one of  exasperation, and Bodhi…sweet big brother Bodhi, looks at her with big brown eyes filled with apology… and it _stings_.

“Maybe not today, Jyn.” He says gently, and anger licks inside her stomach, but she nods stiffly before leaving the room. She leaves hearing her brother tiredly sigh and quietly say “we owe her a nice trip to the bowling alley next week, guys.”

 

Jyn slips out of hiding once Bodhi and his friends leave, joining Baze and Chirrut on the couch. The two adults are going back and forth in Chinese while folding laundry, Baze waving towards the TV at the news. Jyn reads the headlining stories on the screen:

  * _After the break: Ohio Man crosses Bearing Strait, detained by Russian immigration_
  * _House Representative Padme Amidala-Skywalker talks of now-veteran husband Anakin Skywalker’s return from Afghanistan, interrogation, and what this means on the War on Terror—More at 4  
  
_
  * _Senator Sheev Palpatine talks running for next presidential election? –More at 4_



Jyn sits quietly and watches a car advertisement on TV until Baze addresses her.

“Should we change the channel, Jyn?” He asks, bringing her back to the present and from her thoughts. She looks to her adoptive fathers who are both intently facing in her direction and she hastily shakes her head.

“Oh no, it’s okay!” She replies a little too quickly. Baze raises an unimpressed eyebrow and Chirrut leans himself back into the cushions, a questioning look on his face.

“You want to watch the news with us?” Baze asks in disbelief.

“Well, no, not really.” Jyn mumbles. She spots a loose thread from a nearby folded blanket and begins wrapping it around her fingers. “I just want the old Bodhi back.”

“ _The old Bodhi_.” Baze repeats, and when Jyn looks up, she finds both men wearing softened expressions.

“Yeah, the old Bodhi.” Jyn nods. “All he ever does anymore is hang out with Cassian and Kaytoo.” She picks up the blanket with the lose thread and wraps it around herself. “He hangs out with them at school, after school, and now on the weekends, and _he never has time with me._ ” She hates how she sounds bitter and betrayed and _petty_ , but she can’t lie to Baze and Chirrut. “And why do his friends always visit anyway? They never seem to _leave_.”

“Does Bodhi know you feel left out?” Baze asks, and Jyn shrugs.

“I don’t know.” She answers back. “But he’s dumb if he doesn’t realize it.” Baze sighs, and she hears a quiet huff of laughter come from Chirrut.

“You should let him know, Jyn.” Baze says, before reaching into the laundry basket to fold a piece of clothing. “You’re his sister, and Bodhi will understand—he loves you dearly.” but Jyn shakes her head.

“I don’t wanna.” She protests stubbornly, because she’s not good with feelings that are sentimental in nature, and she doesn’t want to be the one to back down.

“We’ll speak to him later about it then,” Chirrut shrugs. “He’ll come around.”

 

Later that night, Bodhi pokes his head into her room.

“Hey Jay, can I come in?” He asks. Jyn’s too busy doodling in a sketch pad to look up.

“Depends. If you’re gonna leave after a few minutes, then _no_.” She presses down on the paper even harder, her pencil lead breaking in the process and she swears. She hears his footsteps and feels her bed sink under his weight.

“You are the most foul-mouthed eight year old I have ever met.” He says in disbelief, and Jyn looks up, but he’s grinning at her, and she shifts her jaw, not wanting to smile back.

“I’m mad at you,” She huffs, returning her stare back at her doodles.

“I know.”

“I don’t like your friends.”

“I know.”

“You don’t hang out with me much anymore.” There’s a silence and…

“…I know.”

At this, she looks up, and Bodhi looks sad all over again. She rips her page of doodles out of her notebook and crumples it into a ball before chucking it at his face. He dodges it with a laugh.

“And I’ve missed you too.”

 

She tolerates Cassian and Kaytoo, if only for everyone’s sanity. Both parties come to a mutual agreement to be nice to each other, at the very least, for Bodhi’s sake. The treaty is sealed with a handshake made at an ice cream parlor the following weekend—Bodhi isn’t around to witness it, having excused himself for the restroom. The day goes relatively smoothly after that.

 

It takes a year for her to get used to Bodhi’s boys… She warms up to them though, and soon enough, she finds herself with three big brothers instead of one.

 

* * *

 

Jyn is not a crier. She can stiffen up her lower lip and harden her stare. She can rage and fight and raise her voice. She can hold it together and swallow the insults thrown in her way, projecting her fury with her head held high until she must strike. But Jyn hardly cries, which is why Chirrut is surprised when he hears the front door open and slam shut, the sound of her running feet carrying her up the stairs, and his bedroom door swings open—her presence seeming to crackle like lightning in what was once his peaceful room.

But she does not approach.

Tilting his head, Chirrut reaches out in the air and extends an open hand, listening to the sound of shaky breaths; and it hits him—Jyn is crying.

“What’s bothered you, Jyn?” He asks gently, standing up. “Come here.”

What he doesn’t expect is her launching herself onto him, burying her face into his shirt. He also doesn’t expect a loud sob that sounds like it’s been caged in her chest for far too long. His right hand automatically moves to stroke her hair as his left is pressed comfortingly on her back. “Shhh,” is all he can repeatedly say until her cries decline.

“Want to talk about it?” He asks, pulling away, but keeping his hands on her shoulders.

“Yes,” She hiccups, and taking her wrist, Chirrut leads her to the bed, where they sit side-by-side, him cross-legged, while his daughter brings her knees up to her chest.

“What happened at school?” He asks patiently, facing her.

“I was walking home,” She begins, voice small. “And these group of kids started following me and calling me mean names; then they started calling me ‘Orphan Girl’ and how my mother and father must have never loved me.”

“Well that’s rude,” Chirrut remarks, sounding offended on her behalf, making Jyn snort. “But that’s not what hurt you.” He continues, changing his tone to something gentler. He holds his arm out, a silent offering so she can lean into him if she wanted. Jyn accepts, leaning onto Chirrut’s side, arms still wrapped tightly around her knees.

“No, it wasn’t the reason.” Jyn stopped. “It’s because they started making fun of you and Baze.” She looks up to her adoptive father, and sees his face turn blank.

“You can tell me, Jyn.” He says quietly, sensing her hesitation.

“They… they called you both _faggots._ ” She spits the word with contempt, her anger returning once again, and she can feel Chirrut hold her tighter. “They said people who love like you do deserve to burn in hell…that you’re wrong...that you’re sinful…that, ” her voice cracks as her volume rises. “They call you _disgusting_ ,” she chokes, and the tears start burning once again. “They say that gay marriage should be outlawed… want to make it illegal again… said it’s not _right_ or _normal_ or…” Jyn loses her composure, and the tears spill, her shoulders beginning to shake.

Before she can speak again, Chirrut envelops her into a tight hug and lets her cry. He feels her sobs and takes in her emotions—distraught and filled with _fury_.

“I told them to shut up!” She blurts angrily, tugging herself away. “I told them to stuff it, that they can shove their insults up their ass and _see if I care_ , but they kept laughing, Chirrut. _They kept laughing_!” Tears blur her vision, and she swipes them indignantly away. “They can’t do that, can they?” Jyn asks (pleads). “ _They_ can’t make it _illegal_! They _can’t_ do that!” She shakes her head wildly as Chirrut takes her hands in his own. “They can’t…”

“No, they can’t do that.” He states firmly. “And if they ever tried, you know me and Baze would do whatever it took to keep that from happening.” Her hands tremble, and he gives them a reassuring squeeze. “There’s a line in wedding vows,” he says wryly, a crooked smile hanging on his lips. “They say _till death do us apart_.”

_And what a thing to have to say..._ Chirrut thinks bitterly to himself, _in this context, of all things…_

“I just don’t want them to split us up.” Jyn says quietly… brokenly, and Chirrut drapes an arm around her shoulders. “We’re a family. I—” She hiccups. “I just don’t understand,” she looks up at her adoptive father’s face. “How can people be so _hateful_?” She asked in a hushed whisper. “How can they hate something _good_?”

“I don’t know Jyn,” Chirrut says, pressing a soft kiss into her hair, before pulling away. He hates that she’s feeling this way. He may not be able to see, but there was a moment in his life when he _could_ , and he knows what a sad face looks like—he can only imagine the pain on Jyn’s face now—the clawing fear that must be gripping her—the fear of having to once again be _alone_.

“I love you, you know that?” He says, wiping away the tear tracks on her cheeks. He feels her nod. “And Baze loves you, and so does Bodhi. Cass and Kay. We love you, and we’re not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Jyn hates how small she sounds, but she’s willing to push aside her pride for this.

“Pinky promise.” Chirrut holds out his little finger and hears a giggle.

“Chirrut, I’m 12.” She says weakly, “I’m not 5 anymore.” But she links her pinky with his anyway, and even though he can’t see, Chirrut knows they’re sharing a smile.

“You’re never too old for pinky promises!” He said, feigning offense.

Jyn launches herself once again at the man, hugging him fiercely.

“Thank you, Chirrut.” She says earnestly.

 

* * *

 

Jyn doesn’t call Baze and Chirrut “father,” “papa,” or “dad.” She remembers her own father vividly and no one can ever take Galen Erso’s title from him without it feeling _weird_ , but the love she feels for her adoptive fathers is just as strong and just as earnest. She also loves her brothers—this family that they have found all on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say that I'm honestly floored by how positively received this fic has been so far! I haven't had the time to respond to reviews yet, but I've read them, and i WILL get to them. I just didn't expect that anyone would like it and I was so scared posting this up, yet here we are. I hope this chapter was a decent follow up to last, even if it's a tad-bit lengthy.
> 
> Next chapter we'll be covering Cassian and Kay, and after that we'll really delve into their teen years and growing up and just seeing them be a family in more detailed scenes rather than in these snippets. These first three chapters is just bringing them together, briefly establishing some relationships. I'm really hoping the later chapters come out more in-depth, so I hope you guys stick around for that.
> 
> The songs used in this are "Stand by Me" by Ben E. King (the song that Bodhi sings to Jyn), and the choir's song is "Scarborough Fair" by Simon & Garfunkel (I used S&G's full version as a reference because I was listening to it a few days ago while writing this and I thought it sounded really pretty and fitting for a choir.)


	3. You're My Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m fine.”
> 
> Cassian stiffly nods. 
> 
> He can’t help it, but it’s his job—to look out for the only family he has...
> 
>  
> 
> In which Cassian and Kaytoo become each other's family, finding home in one another in a world that seems to stack its favors against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So initially I had this extremely long chapter, but eventually decided that I would post it in two parts. This first part is strictly Cassian and Kaytoo, focusing on their relationship with each other, and the next chapter will be them finding home with Baze, Chirrut and the other kiddos.

Cassian Andor is five years old when he meets the boy that will become his brother in everything but blood—his first constant after his life flips upside down.

It begins like a cliché: it’s the first day of kindergarten and he’s sitting quietly alone. His father and mother had walked him to his class and helped him pick out a table near the front of the room, departing with fond words of “tenga un buen día!” (Have a nice day) and “te amo,” (I love you).

As the other children start coming in, their parents echo more-or-less the same words his parents have said, the only difference is, is that they’re said in English.

Cassian flashes his classmates an eager smile, hoping—just _hoping_ , someone will like his friendly face enough to sit with him.

The kids smile back, but three empty chairs still surround him in his group of four.

And then _he_ walks in. A Korean boy wearing a steel-grey jumper sweater and a red baseball cap put backwards, all alone with no parents at his side. The boy peers around the room, little hands clutching at the straps of his backpack, eyes scanning for a place to sit, and then he meets Cassian’s gaze.

For a second, the stare holds and the boy begins to make for Cassian’s direction.

“Can I sit here?” The boy politely asks, and Cassian’s grin spreads wide across his face.

“Yeah you can!” He says, a little too eagerly, and the child smiles a little before taking a seat.

“I like your shirt,” the boy nods over, eyeing Cassian’s Batman long-sleeve.

“I like your Pokémon hat.” Cassian returns, and it’s a start of beautiful friendship.

 

(Kaytoo So is a bright boy; a “gifted child”, a child that happens to bounce from one foster family to the next. He’s never had friends, never staying too long in one place to know what having a bond with anybody is like.)

(The new foster parents he’s had since July are no better…they’re sad, angry people that scare him, but at least he’s never the target…)

(Cassian Andor however, is perhaps one of the greatest things to happen in his life. As the days turn into weeks, and weeks turn to months, he finds that whenever he’s with Cassian, he actually feels like a _kid…_ someone who is finally _accepted_ …someone who finally _belongs_ , and those feelings are perhaps some of the most _human_ things he has ever felt.)

(Between stays at the foster home and stays with his foster parents, he _lives_ for the weekdays and hours spent at school. Cassian makes life just a little _brighter_ … a little more _tolerable_.)

 

* * *

 

Cassian is six when his parents are taken away by immigration. He gets phoned down to the office and there’s a woman wearing a stiff, pencil-cut skirt and blouse; an over-sympathetic smile hangs on thin lips. Within the privacy of a shut room, the woman tells him about ‘illegal immigrants’ and how his parents are gone and Cassian is left with confusion.

“So am I going to Mexico too?” He asks, and the look she gives him is so apologetic it makes his stomach _churn_.

“No sweetheart. You’re a natural born citizen. You’ll be going to foster care for the meantime, but some nice people will find you a good family… a good home.”

Cassian doesn’t bother listening after that. He doesn’t want to go to some weird home. He doesn’t want to have some weird family. It’s _not_ his real _home_ and they’re _not_ his real _family_.

_His_ _home_ is the smell of polvorones de canela baking in the oven when he arrives from school.

_His_ _family_ is his mother and father dancing around in the living room to a song sung in Spanish—an old song from their time as high school lovers.

Cassian is staring at his lap, his whole world slowly unravelling to the core, and the woman speaks up again,

“ _Sweetheart_ ,” she says, and when he looks up, he shoots her a bitter glower.

_Enemy._ He thinks to himself, and God, _everything hurts_. Strange people have taken his parents away, his parents he might never see again, and it’s a wound he’s sure that he’ll carry for the rest of his life.

 

Cassian tells Kaytoo everything at recess. They’re sitting on a set of swings, but not actually _swinging_ and Cassian is kicking woodchips, digging his shoes into the dirt as he does so. And Kaytoo… Kaytoo listens as Cassian rambles, his friend’s voice filled with hurt and resentment.

If his own circumstances were different, Kaytoo would offer Cassian to move in with him, but the circumstances _aren’t_ different. The Brendants are an unstable couple—Kaytoo knows this, and Cassian doesn’t deserve that.

Instead he says, “I guess well be bunk buddies at the foster home?”

He winces at the glare Cassian shoots him.

_Right. Need to work on empathy…_

 

The boys do indeed get to share a room once Cassian gets checked into foster care. Cassian gets the top bunk while Kaytoo sticks with the bottom.

Kaytoo watches as Cassian climbs down the bunk’s ladder with an empty expression on his face.

“Hey,” Kaytoo says, and Cassian looks over at him, eyes just a bit puffy. “Wanna read this Batman comic I nicked from a kid?” Cassian’s brows furrow, but he approaches anyway.

“Isn’t that stealing though?” He asks faintly as Kaytoo flops onto his stomach and inches his way to the corner of his bed, tugging the bedding sheet and pulling out a glossy, paperbacked book. He looks back at Cassian with a crooked smile.

“The guy’s a bully and he left it on the floor. Finders keepers, loser’s weepers.” Sitting up, Kaytoo pats a spot beside him, and Cassian hesitantly crawls onto the bed.

From then on out, the lines of “friend” and “brother” become intertwined. Wherever one goes, the other follows not far behind.

The adults at the foster home call them “inseparable,” noting Cassian’s irritability whenever Kaytoo leaves to visit his foster parents for a few days.

Their teachers meanwhile have coined them as the “dynamic duo,” and it fits.

Kaytoo, the child whose sharp wit leaves his teachers blinking in amazement, and Cassian, who always speaks his mind passionately in class. But it’s when the two bounce thoughts off from one another that leaves the adults _floored_. If they were one person, Kaytoo would be the head, and Cassian would be the heart…

 

* * *

 

_“You dumb bitch! Why’s my dinner cold?”_

It’s a Saturday night and Kaytoo is sitting at the dinner table, looking at nothing but his plate, trying to convince himself that this is all just a nightmare; a nightmare in the form of Thomas (Tom) Brendant unravelling his wrath upon his wife.

“You told me you were going to eat it after the show was over, remember?” Charlotte coaxes gently.

_“Well heat it the fuck up!”_

Kaytoo shovels the food into his mouth quickly and he hears the man laugh.

“Heh, women.” Mr. Brendant snorts. “Hey kid,” Kaytoo looks up, his cheeks filled with mashed potatoes. “You’re a growing young man.” Kaytoo blinks. “Keep this in mind—you’ll never win when you’re married.” Mr. Brendant slurs, pointing at his wife. “Ya get a woman who’s smart and she’ll never shut up. Ya get a woman who’s dumb and she can’t do _jack_ _shit_.” Kaytoo swallows and from the corner of his eye, watches as Charlotte comes back with Tom’s warmed dinner.

They eat in silence and when Kaytoo gets up to wash his plate, Charlotte shakes her head. Reluctantly, Kaytoo gently sets the plate in the sink and leaves. As he’s climbing up the stairs, he hears Tom slur something and Charlotte say “yes, dear.”

In the safety of his room, Kaytoo then hears an enraged yell and a crash of broken glass. He closes his eyes.

_I hope you choke and die._ He’s not sure if seven year olds are supposed to have vicious thoughts like this, but right now his heart is filled with spite.

Yes, he’s very thankful he didn’t drag Cassian to this hell.

 

Ten miles away, Cassian sits at his bed, knees pulled to his chest, staring out in the darkness.

He wonders if Kaytoo is okay. Kaytoo doesn’t talk about his foster family and Cassian’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but a tug in his stomach supposes that it’s not a good thing at all.

He wonders if his mother and father are okay… if they miss him as much as he misses them.

Turning his head to face the window, he sighs and tries to remind himself that if they ever look outside, all his loved ones are looking at the same stars he is.

It’s a small comfort, but it’s _something_.

 

* * *

 

“You need to tell someone!” Cassian whispered from where he sat on Kaytoo’s bed, looking at the bruise that was imprinted on his friend’s arm—the dark purple was a glaring contrast to Kaytoo’s pale, milky skin. Their room was currently closed and both boys were shirtless, initially getting dressed for school. “This isn’t right.”  He approaches Kaytoo slowly, and watches as his friend immediately hugs himself.

“It’s no big deal, Cass.” Kaytoo mumbles, but Cassian looks at him with disbelief.

“You’re hurt!”

“And I’m dealing with it just fine!” Kaytoo snaps. Cassian takes a step backward, stung, and Kaytoo grabs at his own dark hair and begins to pace. He’s not used to people caring… not really. And Cassian, Cassian’s been with him for almost two years, reaching out to him with kindness, but he’s still so used to being _independent_.

“Kay,”

“Look—he didn’t mean it. I don’t even think he realized it was me—he’s always drunk at night, okay? And he’s never done this before. It won’t happen again, I promise!” Kaytoo stops pacing and looks over to where Cassian stands. “I promise.” Kaytoo tries again weakly, but Cassian shakes his head before grabbing a shirt and pulling it on.

“Cass—”

“I’ll meet you downstairs, Kay.”

 

Tom Brendant doesn’t touch Kaytoo again for quite some time, but the insults are a new development. Charlotte only gives him sympathetic looks, but she never says anything.

Kaytoo stews in frustration.

 

Cassian… Cassian worries, and every time Kaytoo leaves with Mr. Brendant—a man with a charcoal tailored suit and an easy, handsome smile, Cassian’s stomach lurches, because he knows the truth… Mr. Brendant is an awful person, and on the nights Kaytoo isn’t sleeping on the bunk below him, Cassian prays.

_His mother would pray with him often… he wonders if she still does._

 

* * *

 

When November rolls around, Kaytoo becomes more withdrawn.

“I’m staying with them for Thanksgiving break,” Kaytoo mentions out loud one night when the lights are off. Cassian’s heart sinks.

“You gonna be okay?” He asks gruffly from his top bunk, and he begins a silent mantra to himself— _it’s only one week. It’s only one week. It’s only one week._ Kaytoo snorts.

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna be a _great_ time.” Kaytoo comments sarcastically, and Cassian isn’t sure whether he wants to laugh or cry.

 

When Kaytoo returns from break, Cassian pulls him in for a hug.

“Relax, Cass. I’m fine.” Kaytoo pats his friend’s back before the two pull away. “See, nice and whole.” Kaytoo holds his arms out and does a little spin, as if to demonstrate that he’s okay. “I’m fine.”

Cassian stiffly nods.

He can’t help it, but it’s his job—to look out for the only family he has.

 

Sometime a week after Thanksgiving, Cassian and Kaytoo both watch from the commons area as a small boy walks out happily with two men.

_What’s his name…Cody? Brody? Bodhi? Bodhi._

A tinge of jealousy tweaks in Cassian’s stomach, but he tries to chase it away. He’s happy for the little guy—truly. He knows that Bodhi’s staying with his new foster parents now, and that the adults are in the process of adopting him.

(He and Kaytoo may have snuck into the file room one day out of sheer boredom).

Meanwhile, Kaytoo thinks bitterly of how lucky this kid must be, that he has a _loving_ home…

Through the window, they watch as Bodhi tugs eagerly at one of the men’s hands, bouncing excitedly on his toes.

“Can you imagine one day that will be us?” Cassian asks and Kaytoo frowns.

“I gave up that dream a while ago…”

 

* * *

 

A year passes, and then another, and then another. The boys are ten and growing to be their own person.

Kaytoo is still stuck with living and not living with the Brendants and his relationship with them is still _awful_ , but he copes by studying—challenging himself through advanced algebra workbooks and pouring over textbooks of all kinds. It keeps his thoughts busy and wits sharp. No one else is going to build him up other than himself (with the support of Cassian) and Kaytoo has long decided that that’s okay, he can manage just fine.

(Cassian doesn’t know how Kaytoo pulls it off, but each to their own, he supposes.)

And Cassian… Cassian doesn’t have much luck with families either. A young couple who always argues… a kind, elderly woman who had a heart attack… a small family that ended up having moving to Delaware… A strict military foster father… a foster mother who sometimes forgot to feed him meals…

They weren’t all bad, Cassian is quick to grant his experiences that much credit, but they weren’t all _good_.

He bounces around, house to house, paying attention to family dynamics, and even in the most decent of homes, he doesn’t _fit_. He feels like an outsider looking in.

So like Kaytoo copes with books, Cassian copes with music and TV, watching the news in specifics, which amuses and baffles the other kids at the home.

He doesn’t know which stories hit him the hardest—the crime reports on children who are kidnapped, assaulted, or murdered…kids who are his same age or younger— or the debates on TV; politicians discussing on how to approach the escalating issue on immigration…

He doesn’t understand everything that’s being said, but they evoke a string of emotions in him.

Bitterness. A sense of purpose. A thirst for justice. A burning itch to speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves…

And when his thoughts get too crowded, he’ll isolate himself in the bedroom and strum on an old, beat up acoustic guitar the old woman had given to him as a Christmas gift.

(He can’t play well, not really, and Kaytoo says his musical ability is the equivalent of a third grader attempting to play Hot Cross Buns on a cheap recorder, but that’s okay because Cassian isn’t playing for anybody but himself, and he can manage just fine _.)_

 

They’re in the fifth grade and it’s the turn of the semester when Cassian and Kaytoo sign up for nearly  identical classes on their registration sheets, but when junior high rolls around, the only class they end up sharing is physical education.

“I’m going to die.” Kaytoo groans after they receive their schedules in the mail and tear open the envelopes in the lounge of the foster home. “Like, 99.9% positive I’m going to _die_.”

“Gym class isn’t going to kill you,” Cassian rolls his eyes as he sits on the sofa “You’re going to be fine.”

“No, not really.” Kaytoo grumbles, sitting crisscrossed on the floor. In mock dramatics, he raises his voice. “Look at me, Cassian!” He holds out his pale arms, and Cassian grins. “Look at my scrawny, asthmatic body. Prepare my eulogy and bury me in my gym shorts! Write on my tombstone: Here lies Kaytoo So, died of respiratory failure with a face full of asphalt.” Cassian shakes his head grinning, ignoring the curious stares of nearby foster children.

“Threepio?” Cassian asks gleefully, thinking of their overdramatic classmate. Kaytoo snorts.

“What do you think?” He crosses his arms. “I mean, gym class is probably gonna kill me, but I choose to die with dignity, thanks.”

 

* * *

 

Gym class doesn’t kill Kaytoo.

However, Tom Brendant almost does.

 

Cassian stays up late on a Thursday night doing a last-minute review for the upcoming biology test when he hears a soft tap on his window. He ignores the first round of taps, thinking it’s a bird, but when the second round sounds, he decides he can’t ignore it. Climbing down his bunk, he slowly approaches. Peeking through his blinds, he sees Kaytoo’s side profile and his unmistakable, untidy, dark hair.

_Jesus Christ._

Drawing the blinds, he pops the locks and opens the window, taking down the screen. Stepping back, he watches as Kaytoo clambers inside the room with little grace.

“Dude,” Cassian breaths. “Dude, what the actual _fuck_?” And when Kaytoo looks up at him and grins a little manically, Cassian recoils. “ _Dude, what the actual fuck_?”

“I guess I don’t look pretty anymore?” Kaytoo humors, but there’s something vulnerable in his tone.

There’s an apparent red swelling around his left eye and a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose.

“Kay—”

“I finally had the guts to talk back.” Kaytoo shrugs mechanically, voice emotionless. “He didn’t like that. Obviously.”

“How did you even _get here_?”

“Snuck out through the window, duh. Drunk people don’t think straight, thank God. Got lucky and nicked some kid’s bike that was left out on their lawn. I did what I had to do. Managed to climb the south gate entrance. Came straight here…” They stare at each other for a moment before Cassian closes the distance and hugs his best friend fiercely.

Kaytoo’s grips is just as strong.

“You can’t go back…”

“Well no _shit_. I don’t plan to.” When they break apart, Cassian draws their foreheads together.

“You’re gonna be okay, bud.” He says, and he can feel Kaytoo tremble. “You’re gonna be fine. I’m here.”

The bedroom door swings open and there’s two security officers at the door. A look of understanding floods their face when they take in Kaytoo’s swollen one, something they wouldn’t have been able to see as clearly on camera.

Both boys are escorted into the lobby and questioned separately until early morning hours.

(Cassian’s questioning is completed before Kaytoo’s and the adults give him clearance to go back to bed. He refuses. He’s not leaving without his brother.)

 

Tom Brendant is arrested the next morning.

Kaytoo and Cassian both get excused absences.

Charlotte also stops by the foster home and requests a visit with her foster son…

 

She wants to move back to Washington state… to Bellevue, her hometown.

“We can finally be a decent family,” She says and reaches for Kaytoo’s hand. “No more living in fear… A peaceful life. You can meet my mother, and I could press for the adoption process,” her eyes are brimming with tears. “I can make it up to you, _I swear_.”

And Kaytoo looks at the woman—the woman who’s put up with Satan himself, and he sees the regret and desperation in her eyes.

Isn’t this the life he’s ever wanted? To finally have a loving home? To be wanted? To finally settle somewhere constant and safe?

She lets out a shaky laugh and cups his cheek with her soft hand, thumb gently brushing underneath his left eye which has begun to show its dark bruising.

“I’m so sorry. You were never—” The words get stuck in her throat.

And Kaytoo swallows, because this woman shouldn’t be apologizing, and he wants to say y _es, I’ll go with you_ but…

“I can’t go to Washington.” He says closing his eyes and her hand slowly slides off his face. When he opens them again, her hands are on her lap, and her eyes are focused on her fingernails. “My friend…”

“I see.” She looks back up at him, and her smile is perhaps one of the saddest things he’s ever seen in the years he has known her. “I wish you the best then, Kaytoo.” There’s a silence and then she stands up. She leaves first, and Kaytoo sits there in the empty office room with the sound of a ticking clock.

 

When he leaves the room after a few minutes, he finds Cassian waiting for him in their shared room.

“Why didn’t you leave?” Cassian askes from his place on the foot of Kaytoo’s bed. Kaytoo groans before crawling underneath his covers.

“Because I’ll miss your dreadful guitar playing.” He drones. His eye hurts, his legs are sore for biking an hour last night in his last minute grasp for escape, and he wants to sleep like the dead.

“I’m serious Kay,” Cassian says, moving to sit down beside him. “You could finally have had family.” Kaytoo groans before opening his eyes.

“She isn’t family, Cass. You’re my family. My brother. My best friend…” He scowls when he sees Cassian’s lips grow into a smile. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“Only if you move over first…”

“ _Dude, your bunk is literally right above mine!_ ”

“Too tired. Move.” Cassian’s already squirming his way underneath the blankets while Kaytoo grumbles out, “ _rude_ ,” and “ _this is an unwarranted invasion of personal space_ ,” but he shifts a little anyway so that Cassian can finally settle himself in.

 

Kaytoo secretly admits to himself that he wouldn’t have it any other way. Cassian is, figuratively, his home, and that’s enough for him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm progressively making these chapters sadder (or maybe it's just me), but I swear; these kids are gonna be happy soon, I promise. Until then, come suffer with me.
> 
> (Also, yes, I made K-2SO Korean, because it keeps K's droid name the same and "So" is a Romanization of different East-Asian family names. I hope this is okay?)


	4. Ohana Means Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.”
> 
>  
> 
> In which boys can't seem to solve fights without using their fists, Cassian and Kaytoo adopt Bodhi into their friendship, which leads to our favorite spacedads coming in to adopt them; Cassian and Jyn make some progress, and Lilo and Stitch has some pretty relevant lines.

Baze is at home enjoying a cup of coffee and the start of his day off when he receives a phone call from Ditmas Junior High School. It’s a Thursday, 8:45 AM, and the home phone wails from its spot on the counter.

He won’t deny his brief concern when he reads the caller ID. Schools don’t call their house very often—they have little reason to.  Jyn and Bodhi are rather well behaved kids and rarely get sick. It’s also the fourth day of the school year and Baze honestly has no clue what this call can be about.

“Hello, this is Baze Malbus speaking.” He answers when he picks up the phone, setting his coffee mug down on the countertop.

“Hello, good morning Mr. Malbus! My name is Stanley Lawrence and I’m the principal here at Ditmas Junior High School. I’ve called to inform you that your son, Mr. Bodhi Rook, is currently outside my office and I would like to schedule a parent conference with you sometime today.”

Baze blinks, stunned.

“Bodhi’s in trouble?”

“Unfortunately, a fight broke out in the boys’ locker room this morning before first period dismissal.” Lawrence reports, and Baze’s posture straightens.

“Is Bodhi hurt?” He demands. “Why was he in a fight?” Baze hears the sound of a creaking chair being reclined.

“Your son has not sustained major injuries of any kind, Mr. Malbus. He has sported a bloody nose, but it has since stopped…” Baze deflates with relief. “…and as for the conflict that has taken place, I would prefer to have this discussion with you face-to-face alongside Mr. Rook, rather than on the phone.”

“I understand,” Baze sighs, running his hand down his face and scratching his beard. “I’ll be on my way.”

So much for having a peaceful morning to himself…

 

 

10 MINUTES EARLIER…

“…I will speak to all your parents individually. Because fighting is against the Student Code of Conduct, you will also be receiving detention. All _five_ of you.”

“ _That’s not fair_!” Kaytoo snarls, finally having enough of being lectured for ‘ _lack of discipline’_ _and_ ‘ _self_ - _control_.’ To hell with the Student Code of Conduct.

He points an accusing finger towards a boy named Heath Wesley who dons a ripped up shirt. “He _started_ it!” and with the same accusing finger, points towards Bodhi, whose shirt is stained with blood. “ _He_ got pushed against a locker and socked on the face!” His finger moves to Cassian whose lower lip was plump, cut and scarlet, right eye showing hints of being swollen. “That _idiot_ right there decided to play the hero!” Cassian makes a noise of incredulity and Kaytoo puts a hand over his chest “and no one messes with _him_ without messing with _me_!” His finger moves to the direction of another boy, Carson Korbin. “And this _jerk_ decided to have a go at _me_!”

“Three against one wasn’t a fair fight,” Korbin says coolly, holding a bag of ice over his left eye. There’s a trail of bright scratch marks on his cheek where Kaytoo had dug his fingernails in. “I was only trying to even out the score and defend an attacked friend.”

“ _Attacked_? If anyone got attacked, it was _Rook_ and Rook got pushed into a locker; he didn’t do _a damn thing_ to Wesley!” Cassian cried out heatedly.

“Spoiler alert: he’s talking about _you_ , you nutcase!”

“Shut up, Kay!”

“The shrimp pretty much told me to fuck off,” Heath growled through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. “Asshole shoved me around yesterday as well.”

“That’s a _lie_!” Bodhi snapped back hotly. “You grabbed my things! I _politely_ asked for them back! You—”

“That’s _enough_!” The five boys stopped bickering and looked over to the principal who was massaging his temple from where he sat. “Never,” He began. “ _Never_ , in all my years of running this school, had I need to give out detentions and send phone calls home within the first week.” He eyed the kids through tired eyes. “The fourth day, boys!” He stands up, raking fingers through greying hair. “It’s the fourth day of the year, and you have already decided to make a mess out of it!”

“I’m not apologizing.” Kaytoo counters, crossing his arms.

“Mr. So, I wasn’t asking for an apology.” Lawrence sternly eyes the five of them. “Regardless of who was in the wrong and who was in the right— _regardless_ of who started it and who finished it—having a brawl on campus grounds is _not_ _tolerated._ If you wanted to be proactive about it, you would’ve gone straight to a trusted adult!”

Cassian and Kaytoo open their mouths in protest, but Lawrence silences them with a look.

“Your detentions will take place tomorrow,” Lawrence states firmly, eyeing them all closely before reaching for the phone. “And now, I’m going to be calling all your legal guardians to schedule a face-to-face meeting. After I speak with them, you will be dismissed for class.”

 

 

When Baze is escorted to the principal’s office, which is tucked behind a corner at the end of the administrative hallway, he’s greeted by the scene of three boys sitting in a row—two of them conversing quietly to each other, and the third boy, who was sitting closest to the principal’s shut door, was staring blankly at his knees. Bodhi.

Baze freezes in his tracks and takes in his son… Bodhi dressed in a white shirt stained with red, loose tendrils hanging from his ponytail and...

“Papa,” Bodhi begins, brown eyes wide when he looks up and realizes his father had arrived. One of the other boys, a brunette young man with tan skin, had previously nudged Bodhi gently in the ribs.

Bodhi’s uttered word is like a spell that breaks the enchantment that has Baze frozen in place, and the man begins to move.

“Bodhi, what did you do?” Baze mutters when he reaches his boy, and Bodhi stands up.

“Papa,” Bodhi says again, this time apologetically. “Papa, I can explain.”

“It’s not his fault!” A voice pipes up, and when Baze looks up to who had spoken, he sees that the voice belongs to the other young man—a boy with pale skin and honey-brown eyes that gleam with determination.

Baze scrutinizes the pair and knows his judgement must be bleeding through when the brunette one ducks his head and scratches awkwardly at his neck. The other one though continues to hold the gaze evenly.

(Bodhi watches the stare down with climbing dread.)

“Ahem,” A voice sounds behind Baze, and they all slightly jump, turning their attention to Principal Lawrence who has poked his head in through the door. “Mr. Malbus. Mr. Rook. If you could join me now?” The man places a tight smile on his lips before opening the door a little wider.

“Of course,” Baze clears his throat. “Come now, Bodhi.” Baze places his hand firmly onto Bodhi’s back and leads his son to the room.

Lawrence shuts the door behind them.

As father and son take their seats, Lawrence returns to the back of his desk, and clasps his hands together, laying them on the table.

“Now,” Lawrence looks over to Bodhi. “Would you like to share with us what happened this morning in the locker room?” Bodhi freezes, eyes wide, before transitioning his focus hesitantly to his father. Baze stares back expectantly.

“Go on.” Baze encourages, stiffly nodding for his son to explain.

“Well,” Bodhi starts, licking his lips nervously and letting his eyes flutter around as he uneasily focuses on his surroundings. “It started when…” he can feel his mouth go dry…

 

 

TEN MINUTES BEFORE FIRST PERIOD DISMISSAL:

“Ha ha, very funny.” Bodhi states to an eighth grader who towers before him. “Hey man, come on, give it back.” He forces himself to bring a weak smile to his lips and tries to reach for his bag.

“Come get it yourself, Rook.” Heath Wesley taunts with a smirk, holding the backpack higher in the air.

“Look, if this is about me accidentally shoving past you yesterday, I’ll tell you again; I didn’t mean it.” Bodhi placates, approaching closer to Wesley with his hands raised. “I slipped with my socks, it was my fault and I’ll apologize again if I have to.” He watches as Wesley smirks and tosses his backpack over to Carson Korbin who stands nearby, still in his work-out clothes and leaning casually onto a wall. The two upperclassman exchange a look, and Korbin unzips the bag, sifting through Bodhi’s things.

((Meanwhile, their nearby classmates are still getting dressed and speaking to each other, the confrontation falling on mostly deaf ears and inattentive eyes. A brunette boy watches by the water fountain though, accompanying his friend with ink-black hair who is ducked down and taking a drink.))

“Hey, dude, not cool—give it back!” Bodhi growls, smile slipping from his face and making a move to reclaim his things, but Wesley grins and grabs him by the wrist.

“If there’s nothing in there worth of value, you’d let it go and not make a scene.” Wesley hisses, drawing the boy close.

“Let go of me; _fuck_ _you_!” Bodhi snarls when he feels Wesley’s grip tighten. A few boys nearby detach from their conversations and watch with curiosity as the scene unfolds. The bully’s face freezes and then he sneers, shoving Bodhi onto the wall of lockers, the sound of slammed metal clanging and hushing the room.

((The brunette boy pushes himself off from the wall he’s leaning on and his friend comes up to stand beside him.))

((“If _he_ does _anything_ …” The brunette begins, and his friend, who stands at a shorter height, looks up to him with raised brows.))

((“He’s gonna _pummel_ you, you _know_ that right?”))

((“Let him try.” The brunette mutters and the black-haired boy ogles at him with disbelief.))

((“Why are you like this?” The black-haired boy exhales, before he too crosses his arms, straightens his posture and glares at Wesley’s back. “You’re leading us to an early grave.” Being honest to himself, he’d actually quite like to land a punch on Wesley’s face as well…))

“FIGHT!” Someone yells from the back of the now crowding boys. “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” The mantra catches on quick, and the locker room fills with chants.

“You hear them, Rook?” Wesley asks, one hand braced on the wall, positioned just above Bodhi’s head, and the other hand has Bodhi by the collar. Wesley licks his lips. “They want us to fight. You know how to make a swing?”

“You can kiss my ass,” Bodhi struggles while glaring holes at the boy who towers over him. Internally, he curses Jyn for letting her smart mouth influence him to no good.

He squirms, but it feels like fighting with a brick wall— to Bodhi, Wesley seems like he has 100 pounds to his advantage and it’s clear he isn’t letting go easy. There’s a glint of amusement in Wesley’s eyes, and Bodhi’s heart fills with trepidation.

Before he knows it, Wesley’s fist connects with his nose and the back of his head bashes against the locker door behind him. There’s a sharp _bang_ and a burst of pain; he feels a flood of warmth flow down his face, the taste of iron in his mouth, and while he doesn’t remember shutting his eyes, Bodhi does remember re-opening them and seeing Wesley’s arms raised, ready to go in for another strike. He hears the crowd go wild and then he sees a head of brown hair tackle his tormenter from the side.

Wesley, not expecting a disruption, drops his grasp on Bodhi’s collar and stumbles out, leaving Bodhi free to stagger away.

Bodhi, pressing the back of his hand against his bleeding nose, watches dazed as the brunette lands a well-meaning punch across Wesley’s face.

“Leave ‘im alone.” The boy grunts out. A pair of hands grab at Bodhi’s shoulders and when Bodhi is spun around, he’s ready to go down swinging when his captor catches his wrist.

“Nuh-huh, wrong target buddy.” The boy says shaking his head, and Bodhi stares into wild, honey-brown eyes. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” There’s a shout, and both their attention returns to Wesley and the brunette, the later pinned onto the floor.

“Hey!” The boy that currently stands with Bodhi shouts out indignantly and rushes over. “Get your filthy hands off of him!” Bodhi watches fascinated as the boy _flings_ himself onto Wesley. The moment is short lived however, when movement catches Bodhi’s eye and Korbin joins in on the mess, prying off the boy with honey eyes and inky hair, pushing him against the nearby wall. Like Wesley, Korbin is tall—a seventh grade upperclassman; but in contrast to the other bully, Korbin is built more lean and is swift when his antagonist takes a swing.

Bodhi doesn’t know why his feet moves towards the fight. Maybe it’s the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but it feels wrong to leave them like this…

 

 

“And that’s it.” Bodhi blinks. “Cassian and Kaytoo didn’t pick any fights—they were only involved because of me.” He looks to his father pleadingly. “I didn’t mean to land anyone or myself into any trouble. I _swear_ , it won’t happen again.”

Baze’s face softens at his son before he smooths it out again and turns to Lawrence, tone business like.

“The boys only acted out in defense. Should they really be punished for this one time occurrence?” Baze asks, leaning back on his chair and crossing his arms. Lawrence sighs.

“I understand the circumstance; truly, I do—but you must realize; as principal of this school, it is my responsibility to uphold the rules, even if the violation was made as an act of defense. Mr. Andor, Mr. So, and Mr. Rook each had the opportunity to let an adult handle the situation, but each of the young men have failed to do so and resorted to escalating the violence. I cannot bend the rules, not even for them.” Lawrence offers Bodhi a kind smile. “If it brings you both any comfort, Mr. Wesley and Mr. Korbin will have harsher disciplinary consequences, but my punishment for you and your other peers still stand; you will serve your detention on Friday afternoon.”

 

When father and son leave Principal Lawrence’s office, Bodhi turns to face Baze, expression upset.

“I’m grounded, aren’t I?” he asks glumly, staring at his feet. Baze raises a brow, fighting to keep his face neutral. From the corner of his eye, he spies the other two boys, Cassian and Kaytoo, striving to look casual while listening in.

“No, you’re not grounded.” It’s a simple made statement and it makes Bodhi look up, thoroughly surprised.

“I’m not?”

“No,” Baze pulls his son in for a brief, yet meaningful hug. “What happened in that locker room wasn’t your fault. I will not punish you for being a victim or deciding to fight back in defense of your friends.” When Baze pulls away, he eyes Cassian and Kaytoo with consideration. “You two boys!” He calls out, and both Cassian and Kaytoo look up in synch, eyes blown wide at being unexpectedly addressed.

“You aided my boy, yes?” Baze asks curtly, crossing his arms and regarding them with a stern frown. They both nod without hesitation.

“Yes, sir.” It’s an automatic response, and Bodhi’s eyes travel between his father and classmates, curious of the exchange. He watches his father’s face relax, and Bodhi allows himself to slightly smile to himself.

“Well, I’d like to thank you,” Baze begins, and the frown lifts into a hint of a grin—just a slight pull at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for helping Bodhi when no one else did.” Cassian and Kaytoo blink.

“It was the right thing to do.” Cassian speaks, voice cracking just slightly and Baze takes in the boy’s swollen eye which is sure to become a dark bruise on the morrow.

“Still,” Baze ponders out loud. “I’m sure there were a few boys who saw it as wrong as you did and yet they did nothing. What you did speaks a lot about character, and I’m thankful my son’s met you.” Turning to Bodhi, he places a hand over his son’s shoulder.

“You leaving now, papa?” Bodhi asks.

“Yes. I’ll be stopping by your father’s clinic and letting him know of today’s events.” He sighed. “Now go get changed into something clean and head to class—don’t get into any more trouble, Bodhi.”

 

When Baze leaves, he swears he hears one of the boys whisper, “Your dad is both terrifying and… _chill_. I don’t know whether I’m more confused or distressed.”

The statement makes Baze chuckle.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Bodhi greets Cassian and Kaytoo the next morning in the locker rooms. He opts to glance at the ground and bounces anxiously at his heels, trying his best to ignore the sudden whispers around him.

“Hey to you too.” Kaytoo greets with surprise, and when Bodhi looks up, he sees the two shirtless boys regarding him with interest.

“Listen, I never did get around to apologizing yesterday…” He stops when Cassian rolls his eyes and flashes an exasperated grin at Kaytoo like they’re sharing an inside joke. Bodhi’s heart sinks.

_So this is when they tell me to buzz off…_

When Cassian turns back to look at Bodhi and takes in the younger boy’s fallen expression, the brunette’s face turns to something kind.

“Look, stop. There’s no need to apologize. Like, at all.” Cassian takes Bodhi by both shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze. “I did what I did because I _wanted_ to. I made my choice. Don’t apologize.”

“But… you must’ve gotten into so much trouble…” Bodhi continued, and Kaytoo snorts.

“Trust me when we say that everything ended up okay.” Kaytoo rolls his eyes dismissively. “The little lecture we had on the ride home after school was nothing. How much you wanna bet that detention later today is gonna be nothing?” He picks up his shirt from the nearby bench and pulls it over his head.

“See; it’s all good.” Cassian reassures. And then he grins. “Why don’t you run the mile today with us? It’ll be fun. We could use new company.” Bodhi raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“ _Fun_?” he echoes doubtfully, and Kaytoo sniggers from where he sits on the bench.

“See, Cass? You’re the only person in this room who thinks running is _fun_.”

“It _is_ fun!”

“It’s bloody _dreadful_ , mate!”

“You’re not even British, Kay. Stop embarrassing yourself.”

 

Sometimes it takes a locker room smack down to meet some of your favorite people in the world.

 

* * *

 

“You should bring them home!” Chirrut says to Bodhi, one month into the school year and having to hear yet another tale of Bodhi’s adventures in gym class. The family is gathered around the dinner table, sharing stories of their day. “They sound like lovely boys.”

“I wanna meet them too!” Jyn nods from her seat, because Bodhi tells her everything and being the protective little sister she is, she wants to meet these so called “friends” who helped her brother in a fist fight.

 

* * *

 

This is what Kaytoo learns of Bodhi’s little family when he and Cassian visits Bodhi’s place after school:

1: Baze is the “strict” dad who directs them to the dining room table and ask that they all complete their homework before they, quote, ‘ _do whatever you young boys do_.’

2: Baze is actually a softie, because while Kaytoo and Cassian work on their math and Bodhi powers out an essay for English, the man scoops them up ice cream and distributes it to them with a hint of a grin on his face. “Having food in your stomach helps you think,” Baze nods as the boys express their thanks in the form of words.

3: Baze the Softie is confirmed when the front door clicks open and Bodhi’s little sister Jyn comes scampering into the kitchen/dining area, dressed up in a muddy soccer uniform, and pounces onto Baze’s back, as if attaching for a piggy-back ride. Baze welcomes the contact with a fond laugh before Jyn drops back onto the ground and holds onto her adoptive father’s arm.

4: Chirrut is a blind man, and when he walks into the congregating area, he goes straight to his husband and wraps his arms around Baze with the most loving look on his face and reports, “Our girl just won her first game! Jyn made the winning shot! She’s also scored three of the team’s goals!” and Baze looks over to little Jyn who is focused on her two fathers. And Baze grins—a full blown, bright-as-the-sun _smile_ and it’s written with such pride, Kaytoo can’t help but feel a pang of longing and thinks to himself, _so this is what a proper family is_ …

(When he looks over at Cassian, he spots a curious expression on his friend’s face, a look of _recognition_ , and he can only guess what Cass must be thinking— _I haven’t had a real family and home in so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.._.)

5: “Congratulations Jyn!” Bodhi calls out warmly from the dinner table, and both Jyn and Chirrut turn in their direction, and Jyn’s excited expression turns to one of wonder before blurting out “You’re Cassian and Kaytoo!” Chirrut’s smile only widens, and this is when Kaytoo decides that Chirrut must be the Cool Dad.

6: Jyn is annoying. She follows them around the house after they all complete their homework. It was sweet at first, but she rubs off as clingy. Bodhi loves her dearly so Kaytoo tries to hold his tongue and remain polite…

7: Baze is a good cook and prepares them dumplings that night. He and Chirrut have a loving relationship if it wasn’t proven enough earlier. Chirrut is the playful one, sneaking a dumpling off his husband’s plate when Baze is too busy engaging in conversation with the kids. When Baze looks down and notices a missing dumpling, he’ll mutter something in Chinese which has Chirrut giggling like a little kid.

 

* * *

 

 “I hope you boys come around more often,” Chirrut later says when Kaytoo and Cassian stand at the front door. He sticks his hand out for a handshake which the boys firmly return. “Bodhi doesn’t make many friends at school and very rarely does he bring them over. You two… you’re different.” There’s kindness in his blue-cataract eyes and a fond smile on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Baze knows this road. It’s familiar territory—a memory covered with dust and left untouched on one of the back shelves of his mind. He knows this place—it’s hard to forget when he’s been here numerous times in the past.

“It’s going to be,” Cassian quietly begins—

“That last building on the end?” Baze finishes just as gently. From the rear view mirror, he sees the two boys exchange looks in the dark. Pulling to the curb, he kills the engine and turns around to look at Bodhi’s friends.

“Did you know him?” He asks. Cassian shakes his head.

“Hardly. We only knew his name and face.” Kaytoo shrugs. “And that’s only because me and Cass dug through the file room because we were bored. _HEY_!” He glares at Cassian who had just stomped on his foot, but Baze lets out a huff of laughter.

“Kay and I recognized him on the first day of school.” Cassian added. “It wasn’t immediate. There was just something familiar about him, and then it was obvious—he was that little boy who got picked up the week after Thanksgiving six years ago.”

“That’s an odd memory to remember.” Baze said, eying Cassian. The boy shrugs a bit uncomfortably.

“A few other memories make it hard to forget.”

_My first Thanksgiving at the home…_

_Having to go a week worried about my best friend who lived with an abusive asshole…_

 

* * *

 

“Did you meet their parents?” Chirrut asks from where he sits on the bed, crisscrossed and facing the bathroom where Baze is brushing his teeth.

“No.” Baze calls back after he rinses his mouth.

“What? Why?” Chirrut’s eyebrows furrow with alarm. “Baze!” He scolds. He waits and hears approaching footsteps and feels the bed dip behind him. He feels strong arms pull him in.

“Because,” Baze explains softly, resting his chin on the top of Chirrut’s head. “They don’t have parents.”

“Oh…” There’s a silence. “Can we take them in?”

“I was actually hoping you’d ask that.”

“We’ll need to move first.” Chirrut states. “Get a bigger house. Prepare them their own rooms… If we don’t, social services won’t bother considering our requests.” He knits his fingers through Baze’s hand.

“So we’ll take baby steps.”

 

It’s the most anguishing baby steps of Baze and Chirrut’s life.

The move was easy. It was dealing with the kids that proved to be the hardest.

Bodhi is excited when he learns of the news.

Cassian and Kaytoo undergo various stages of shock, eagerness, and then overwhelming doubt that gets discussed over accumulating hours in family therapy at the foster home.

Baze and Chirrut don’t shy away though, because each opportunity they get for learning about the boys’ background, they embrace it for what it is. They decide together that this is _trust._ Cassian and Kaytoo are _trusting_ them with stories of their lives and insecurities because they want to come _home_ and _goddamn_ , do Baze and Chirrut love their boys fiercely for being so strong.

It’s Jyn that takes the news with more than just a grain of salt.

“I thought you already made amends with Cass and Kay?” Baze asks as he and his daughter walk hand-in-hand through IKEA, looking through bed frames. Jyn shrugs.

“They’re still annoying.” She mutters under her breath. “We only get along for Bodhi’s sake.”

“They’re going to be family, Jyn.” Baze sighs, peering down at her with slight exasperation. Jyn looks up and bites her lip.

“Fine.” She relents. “I’ll try to be nicer.” There’s a pout on her mouth but Baze decides that it’s enough. Jyn will come around. Stubbornly. But she’ll come around.

 

* * *

 

“You always wear that necklace.”

Jyn snaps her attention to Cassian, hand instinctively reaching to hold a crystal that rests on her chest.

It’s nearing summer break and the children are spending the weekend together rollerblading. Both Cassian and Jyn are sitting on the driveway, waiting for Bodhi and Kaytoo to come back from getting popsicles from inside the house. Baze is in the garage, working on the minivan he had purchased a few weeks ago and Chirrut is meditating on Baze’s workbench.

“It was my mother’s,” Jyn starts softly. “It’s the only thing I have left from her.”

Cassian’s face softens for the first time he’s been with the girl.

“How old were you?” He questions. “If you don’t mind me asking?” He rushes quickly. They don’t know each other well, not really, and he knows this is thin ice he walks on. Jyn, who had been so focused on staring at an ant scurrying on the ground, looks up at him.

“Five.” She answers. “I lost her when I was five. My father died a year after. There was a shooting—”

“You don’t need to tell me.” Cassian interrupts when he notices how Jyn’s voice gets smaller. He watches as relief floods her face.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Cassian remembers that this girl is still eight years old—her parents’ deaths still two to three years fresh in her mind. There’s an awkward pause and Cassian places his attention up towards the clouds while Jyn plays with the laces on her skates.

“I’ll tell you one day, though.” She says quietly, and Cassian is drawn to look at her again. “One day when I’m ready, I’ll tell you all about them.” A hesitant smile plays at her lips and Cassian weakly grins back.

It’s definitely progress.

When Kaytoo and Bodhi come back with an armful of snacks and drop them near the workbench beside Chirrut, everyone flocks around the food.

“Hey, I wanted the mung bean moon cakes!” Jyn sulks when Kaytoo grabs the pack of bean cakes for himself.

“Go inside and get your own.” Kaytoo rolls his eyes and tosses Cassian a juice box.

“Thanks Kay,” Cassian grins before asking, “Can I have one of those cakes?” Kaytoo opens the plastic packaging and hands two cakes over to Cassian, who then holds them out to Jyn.

Bodhi, who was putting down his sandwich to go back inside and grab Jyn a pack of cakes, freezes in his place and watches the scene with fascination. Baze is also standing nearby, observing the exchange with approval.

“What’s happening?” Chirrut whispers in Bodhi’s ear.

“I think its friendship.” Bodhi whispers back.

“You gonna take them or not?” Cassian’s tone is not unkind, but rather laced with amusement. Jyn blinks at him before hesitantly taking his offering.

“Thanks,” She says, smiling just a little bit as she bites into the pastry. Cassian beams.

And this is when he knows he’s finally gained a little sister.

 

* * *

 

“We’re not watching _Lilo and Stitch_ , Cass.” Kaytoo groans. Everyone is assembled in the living room. The kids had just completed the last day of school for the year that afternoon and summer break had officially begun.

Cassian and Kaytoo had officially moved in two days before, and Chirrut had proposed they spend Friday night as their first proper family night together.

“But we’ve never watched it before.” Cassian attempts at persuading. “Look at it! There’s _aliens_ on the cover.” He presents the DVD case, showcasing its illustrative covering. “It’ll be good!”

“It _is_ a good movie,” Bodhi nods, pitching in as Cassian’s advocate. He’s sitting on the large couch, sharing a blanket with Jyn. From the loveseat, Chirrut chirps out:

“It was his favorite movie when he little.”

“How come I’ve never seen it?” Jyn asks curiously, poking her brother on the shoulder. “You always sat through the _Little Mermaid, Mulan_ and _Brave_ with me.” Bodhi shrugs.

“I forgot about it, I guess.”

“He watched it religiously to the point we had to finally hide the disk away.” Chirrut teases, and Bodhi blushes. “Baze found it in the closet when we were packing for the move. Figured it was time to put it back with the Disney collection.”

“So we’re watching it!” Cassian declares, popping the film into the DVD recorder. Kaytoo groans from his beanbag.

“Dude, but I’m choosing the next movie!” Kaytoo eyes Cassian grumpily, the later dropping himself into an unoccupied beanbag right next to his first brother.

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

_“Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind. But if you wanna leave, you can. I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone who leaves…”_

Jyn fails to hide a sniffle, and Bodhi reaches for her hand, giving it a little squeeze.

“Are you crying?” Kaytoo asks, turning his head, and from the light of the TV, Jyn can see slight concern on her adoptive brother’s face.

“No.” She frowns before whispering back, “they’re allergies.” Cassian snorts and Kaytoo rolls his eyes.

 

* * *

 

_“I’m lost.” Stitch reads out from a story book with a little duckling on a page. The little alien looks around at his surroundings— darkness and so many trees… “I’m lost.”_

Cassian hears a shift beside him, and when he turns his head, Kaytoo is watching the screen with wide eyes. Lifting his arm, he pulls Kaytoo in. Kaytoo allows the contact and rests his head on Cassian’s shoulder.

"We aren't lost anymore." Cassian murmers into Kaytoo's ear. "We're okay. We're gonna be okay."

 

* * *

 

_“This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.”_

Baze feels fingers slip into his and when he looks over to Chirrut, he sees tear tracks on the man’s face. He leans over and presses his lips onto Chirrut’s temple, breathing in his scent, letting the movie drown his thoughts before he pulls away.

Looking out to his children on the couch and beanbags, he can’t help but agree to Stitch’s line. His children had come from all walks of life. Death of parents. Poverty. Crime. Abusive homes and parents being deported. But here they all are.

Lost and found.

They are broken, but they are good.

_Yeah, still good..._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Lilo and Stitch is the family bonding movie between the Spacedads and baby Rogues and you can try to pry it away from my cold, dead hands.
> 
> (I just really love Lilo and Stitch okay? It was my personal favorite Disney movie growing up, and it still is today.)  
> Also, fun-fact: the name Lilo in Hawaiian means 'generous one' and 'lost.' Stitch means to pull together. Combine the two and you get "lost and pulled together." Isn't that sweet? I'm dying in sadness lmao :-( 
> 
> Now, as far as updating goes, spring semester is coming up on Tuesday of next week, and guess who's ready for that upcoming disaster? Hint: not this kid lmao  
> In other words, I'm not sure how frequent updates are gonna be, but I promise, I'll try my hardest and not pull a Luke by disappearing from the world of fanfiction. 
> 
> I hope you guys liked this chapter? Yeah? Nah? Ehhh?
> 
> Also, as promised, fun times are coming up next chapter! Yay!


	5. Kitchen Nightmares (and other sweet situations)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian won’t voice it, but Kay’s right, none of them have the slightest idea of what to do…except maybe Bodhi, but as long as they’re careful, what could possibly go wrong?
> 
>  
> 
> In which Jyn comes up with a pure idea, Cassian runs this shit-show, Bodhi is not a morning person (but he's trying), Kaytoo is a little shit who will provide little-to-no help in these trying times (but he will eat all your fruit) and Murphy's Law kicks in, full swing.

 

“ _Bee_.” A voice hisses into Bodhi’s ear. _Jyn_. There’s a gentle tap on his shoulder, but Bodhi ignores the disturbance.

“Bodhi.”

_tap._

“Bodhi Bee!”

_tap. tap_.

“Bodhi, wake up!” Jyn sounds aggressive this time around, followed by a sigh of impatience.

“My turn. Can I poke him now?” Another voice asks in a whisper. _Kay_.

“No.” Bodhi mumbles, shifting a little and hugging his pillow to his face. “Stop poking me, guys. Leave me alone.”

_jab._

Bodhi rouses with a start, propping himself up by the elbow and rubbing his ribcage where he had been viciously prodded. Squinting around, he finds himself surrounded by his three siblings. Cassian is perched above him, sitting on top the sofa’s back, hair sticking up in different directions. Kaytoo is kneeling on the floor with the proudest smirk on his face, and Jyn is sitting on the sofa’s arm, looking the most awake and put together out of all of them.

(The children had fallen asleep in the living room last night, sprawled out on the couches, viewing movies into the early hours of morning long after Baze and Chirrut had retired for bed.)

“What do you guys _want_?” Bodhi groaned, laying back down and blinking blearily at the ceiling, Cassian’s face grinning down at him from his periphery.

“Baze and Chirrut aren’t up yet,” Jyn whispered conspiratorially. “We’re gonna make breakfast this morning for a change.”

Bodhi considered the statement for a second before nodding.  

“Alright, yeah. That sounds good.” Forcing himself to sit upwards, Bodhi let out a yawn and stretched out his neck side-to-side. Kaytoo and Jyn were already bounding for the kitchen when Cassian slid down the sofa’s back and landed right beside his groggy brother.

“Morning Bodhi,” Cassian sang sweetly as he mussed Bodhi’s hair; laughing when Bodhi playfully attempts to shove at his shoulder. Cassian takes advantage of his brother’s sleep-addled reflexes and dodges the incoming arm smoothly.

“Missed!”

“Jerk,” Bodhi grumbles fondly, allowing one hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes while the wrist of his other hand is taken by Cassian.

 

Jyn is already pulling pans quietly out from the cupboard when Cassian enters the room, Bodhi just a few steps behind. Meanwhile, Kaytoo pulls food out from the fridge—a carton of eggs, a jug of milk, a plastic tub of blueberries, butter, sausage links, a pack of bacon…

“Kay, you’re gonna drop those!” Cassian hisses in alarm, letting go of Bodhi’s wrist and swinging by Kaytoo’s side, grabbing a few of the items that are dangerously piling up in Kaytoo’s arms. Kaytoo frowns.

“I wasn’t gonna drop anything.” He sulks, following Cassian’s footsteps and depositing the ingredients on the island countertop. Kaytoo then proceeds to open the tub of blueberries and pops one in his mouth. After clambering up onto the counter, he watches with boredom as Cassian heads towards the pantry and disappears inside.

“Hey, Bodhi?” Cassian asks after rummaging around for a minute, remerging from the closet with a sack of flour in his arms. “You wanna be the one who makes the pancakes since you actually know how to make them?” Bodhi (a bit sleepily) nods, and Cassian grins. “Great! Here, grab this then.” He holds out the flour, which Bodhi walks over and takes, before swinging by the stove area.

“You gonna be okay with making the eggs?” Cassian asks Jyn, who’s holding a spatula in her hands, watching the skillet in front of her intently. A few eggs lay on the stovetop nearby her reach. Her burner is on, pan warming up and already oiled when she glares upward at her brother.

“I can handle it fine, Cass. Who made you the boss?” and Cassian raises an eyebrow.

“I did, and it’s because I’m the _oldest_.”

“That’s a stupid reason to be in charge.” She begins, matching his raised eyebrow challengingly. She crosses her arms. “Age is just a number.”

“Well, _I_ know what I’m doing.” Cassian mirrors her stance, and Jyn is about to retort when Bodhi swears loudly under his breath, Kaytoo breaking out in giggles.

Simultaneously turning around, Cassian and Jyn look bewilderedly at the mess already on the crowded island.

There’s a puddle of spilt milk on the surface, slowly inching its way outward, seeping under the items sprawled out nearby. Cassian looks to Bodhi questioningly.

“I maybe spilt the cup of milk while reaching for the sugar.” Bodhi explains, face flushing with slight embarrassment. “I’m really sorry.” There’s a smudge of flour on the tip of his nose, bedhead loosely tied back, his hand scratching at the back of his neck, and the sight of him is so endearing neither Jyn nor Cassian can actually feel irritated by the scene.

“We’ll just clean it up later before we wake Baze and Chirrut up,” Cassian waves dismissively.

“And you’ve got flour on your face, Bee.” Jyn indicates to her own nose and grins when Bodhi absentmindedly reaches upward with a flour-coated hand and swipes, smearing the middle of his face with white powder. Cassian and Jyn snicker, and it takes Bodhi less than a second to realize his mistake.

“Guys!” He scowls at his two siblings shaking with mirth. “You’re all terrible.”

“But, Bee—you look so cute!” Jyn teases, causing Bodhi’s frown to deepen.

 “Making fun of Bodhi is fun and all, but I’d like to inform you; your pan is steaming, Jyn.” Kaytoo pipes up cheerfully from his spot on the counter. Jyn turns around, startled, and Cassian looks in Kaytoo’s direction with newfound bemusement.

“And how are you contributing?” He asks. Kaytoo shrugs.

“Supervision.” The boy answers back in a heartbeat before dumping a handful of blueberries into his mouth. “I’m making sure you guys don’t burn this place to the ground.” At Cassian’s unconvinced look, Kaytoo points at Jyn who, with her spatula, is trying to fish out a piece of shell that had fallen into the pan while cracking her egg. “Exhibit A.” He announces, and Jyn, sensing that she’s being mocked, tosses her brother a glare over her shoulder. The look goes ignored.

With his thumb, Kaytoo then gestures over to Bodhi who stands behind him, completely focused on making pancake batter. There are egg shells scattered around a flour dusted bowl; Bodhi’s work station is a complete _wreck_. “And there is Exhibit B.” Kaytoo states with a deadpanned stare, causing Cassian to exhale before grabbing the nearby pack of bacon and opening the box.

(Cassian won’t voice it, but Kay’s _right_ , none of them have the slightest idea of what to do…except maybe Bodhi, but as long as they’re careful, what could possibly go wrong?)

 

* * *

 

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing!” Jyn demands, wild-eyed, shielding herself with Cassian’s body as she peeks around at the stove with a horrified expression on her face.

While the two had successfully managed to shut the burners off using a broomstick handle, the pans’ contents were still viciously popping in their spots, hot oil darting outwards in different directions.

Cassian is positioned far away from the cooking range, holding his arm out to block Jyn from getting closer to the ticking fire hazard that is their stove (not that Jyn needed his arm to keep her away).

“Not really,” Cassian looks down at Jyn who is clutching his shirt and looking up at him incredulously. “I’ve never cooked before!” He admits with a hit of an apology. From the corner of his eye, he sees Bodhi making his way towards the windows by the dining table on a solo mission to get air circulating in the room.

“Fun fact,” Kaytoo chirps, studying the scene that unfolds before him. “Bacon is actually one of the most common food items to catch on fire because of its high grease content that is released as the meat cooks. The hot temperature causes the grease to splatter and leave the pan, due to the expansion of water being heated beyond its boiling point and being more dense than oil—”

“Kay, how is any of that _fun_?”

“It’s relevant trivia!”

 

* * *

 

Baze and Chirrut wake up to the sound of the fire alarms wailing throughout the house, the smell of burning meat being the second thing their senses register almost immediately.

“ _Fuck_!” Baze swears, stumbling out of bed, almost tripping on a bed sheet that had tangled itself around his legs.

“Baze?” Chirrut calls out above the alarm’s piercing beeps, feet hitting the floor with better grace, but his husband is already dashing out the room in a panic.

_The kids! The kids! The kids! Shit! The kids!_

He might as well be paid even though he’s off duty.

Baze coughs through the smoke, spotting Bodhi and Kaytoo as he makes his way through the house, the boys opening windows in the living room with a surprisingly calm demeanor, as if the fire alarms weren’t blaring in their ears.

When Baze gets to the kitchen, he sees Jyn frozen in place, wide-eyed, and Cassian making his way to the sink, a blazing pan secured in his hands…

“Cassian!” Baze calls out, rushing towards his son. He takes the skillet from the oldest boy’s grasp and sets it back on the stove, but not on the burner. “The lid,” Baze turns to Jyn, who is still unmoving, clutching onto a spatula. “The lid,” he repeats, and Jyn is brought back down to earth, spinning on her heel, darting to the cupboard before rummaging for the pan’s corresponding lid. In the meantime, Baze opens the spice cabinet and begins sifting through its contents.

_Where is the baking soda?_

When Jyn finally hands the lid over, hands slightly trembling, Baze slaps the metal covering over the pan and turns the stove vents on. As the alarm sirens continue to wail for a few more minutes, the children group close together behind the island counter, and Chirrut plants himself behind them, one hand placed on Cassian’s shoulder, the other hand placed on Jyn’s; the two are sandwiched in the middle between Bodhi and Kaytoo who stand at the ends of the lineup.

The alarms stop and Baze switches off the air vents. There’s a silence.

“Never,” Baze says, tone a bit hoarse, turning to face Cassian who stares at the stove with fear. “ _Never_ try to put out a grease fire with water. You put it out by cutting off its oxygen supply or by pouring baking soda on it.” Cassian gulps and nods his head, tearing his focus away from the pans and fixing his attention on Baze.

“I’m sorry,” He croaks out. “We just wanted to make you guys breakfast.” He feels Chirrut gently squeeze his shoulder comfortingly and sees Baze’s expression soften. He feels Jyn grab a hold of his index finger, and his hand curls inward on instinct. “I didn’t mean to start a fire.”

Baze walks over and approaches the kids.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” He says gently. “Your intentions were good and it means a lot to me and Chirrut that you all decided to try and make breakfast for the family.” He shifts his focus from Cassian and looks at each one of the children. Jyn, whose eyes are cast downward in shame (because it was her idea in the first place). Bodhi, whose expression is solemn. Kaytoo, whose face is a mask of neutrality. And then Cassian again. “But your safety means more to us than anything else. Any of you could’ve gotten hurt, and nothing is worth that.”

“I understand.” Cassian whispers, “and I’m sorry.”

“We’re sorry.” There’s a chorus from the other three children and Baze tiredly sighs before smoothing out Cassian’s hair, fingertips messaging the boy’s scalp—a silent gesture of _I’m not mad at you_ and _there’s nothing to forgive._

“It’s alright,” Baze begins. “We make mistakes. We live and we learn.” When Cassian blinks at him, he gives a crooked smile. “Just don’t make a habit of burning things. Come to me if you ever need help with the stove. Perhaps maybe it’s time for the four of you to start actively helping prepare meals in the kitchen.”

* * *

 

“Alright, you can flip it now.” Baze nods to Cassian from where he stands next to his son. Cassian lifts the pancake with the spatula and flips, the sound of sizzles being emitted as wet batter meets the heated skillet. 

“Oh hey, I did it!” Cassian declared, thoroughly surprised as he looks up to his adoptive father who beams down at him in approval.

“Very good, Cass.”

 

Behind the working pair, Kaytoo and Bodhi are making orange juice by hand with Kaytoo slicing the oranges in half and picking out seeds while Bodhi manually works a plain juicer.

“Oh my God, Kay! Stop eating the oranges!” Bodhi snaps out indignantly, releasing his grip from the fruit he’s juicing and crossing his arms. Kaytoo, who had peeled his fourth orange half, slowly lifts it to his mouth.

“ _Don’t_.” Bodhi warns, eyes narrowed as Kaytoo’s lips tug into a smirk. There’s a pause and Kaytoo lowers his hand, making Bodhi visibly relax.

Kaytoo shoves the slice in its near entirety into his mouth.

“ _Kay_!”

“I’m hungry.” Kaytoo defends with a bulging cheek before going back to his task. The words come out more garbled than understandable and Bodhi flashes him a look of disgust.

“We’re all hungry,” Bodhi reasons, as he returns to his work. “I’m hungry too.” Kaytoo scoffs.

“Tragic. Unfortunate. But hey look, _a basket of oranges_! How _convenient_.”

 

“Warmer. Warmer. Warmer.” Jyn says, as Chirrut’s hand touches a package before moving onto the next. “Just a lil’ closer.” She mummers.

The two are standing in the pantry closet, Jyn directing her adoptive father to finding the sweetened milk chocolate chips which are nestled on a shelf too high from her reach.

“Perhaps I should lift you up?” Chirrut suggests.

“No, you’ve almost got it,” she reassures and Chirrut’s hand moves another space to the right. And then another. “Hot!” She pipes up. “Hot on the spot!” She grins as Chirrut chuckles and brings down the bag of sweets. “Thank you!” She states, before reaching to claim her prize and grabbing a handful of chocolate.

“You’re welcome, Jyn.” With a hand on her back, the two walk out of the closet. “Can I have some too now?” he asks right before they step out. His daughter hums her approval, and she offers the bag to him.

“Chirrut!” Baze scolds from where he stands near the stove, an ideal spot for observing the kitchen while keeping an eye out for Cassian who was currently handling himself just fine.

“Jyn was hungry.” Chirrut states easily through a mouthful of chocolate, handing the bag back to his daughter, who repossesses it eagerly. She reaches into the bag, looking at Baze playfully as she lifts another handful of candies into her mouth. “There’s chocolate chips in the pancakes anyway.” Chirrut reasons.

“Gee, I wonder why…” Cassian calls out from his place on the stove, his back facing the others as he flips his third pancake.

“Because _someone_ ate all the blueberries,” Bodhi grumbled, side-eying Kaytoo who’s sitting on the counter top, bouncing his heels against the counter walls, casually sucking on an orange slice, yet again, wearing a look of calm indifference.

 

Baze looks at his little family. They’re children. _All_ of them—but he loves them so much.

 

* * *

 

They’re sitting around the table when the phone rings, drawing everyone out of their conversations as Bodhi gets up and heads for the phone. Upon reading the caller ID, his face brightens.

“Who is it, Bodhi?” Baze asks, as everyone patiently waits for Bodhi to read out the caller’s identity.

“Năinai!” He announces, and around the table, facial expressions begin to vary. Cassian and Kaytoo exchange looks of interest while Jyn’s eyes light up. In her eagerness, she leaves her seat and darts to where Bodhi stands. Chirrut’s lips lift into a pleased smile, and Baze…Baze sighs, expression a weird mixture of fondness and exasperation.

“Answer the phone, Bodhi!” Jyn demands as the handset wails again from its spot on the base unit.

“Hello?” Bodhi asks as he answer the phone, putting it up to his ear. “Năinai? Grandma?”

“ _Put her on speaker, Bee!_ ” Jyn hisses, gripping onto Bodhi’s shoulder. Bodhi hip checks Jyn playfully to the side to get her away. Nonetheless, he presses the speaker button and a woman’s voice fills the room.

“Hello? Bodhi, is that you?”

“Yes, grandma!”

“It’s been ages since I heard your voice, young man! How are you? How is Jyn? How are my grandchildren?”

“We’re good!” Bodhi chimes back, as Jyn leans into the phone and greets the old woman with an excited “Hello!”

“That’s good to hear!” The woman replies back with approval. “Now; how come I don’t hear my son, hmmm? I know he's in that room somewhere and can hear me! I know you’ve got that phone on speaker.” Bodhi turns to look at his fathers—Chirrut, who is (sightlessly) gazing in Baze’s direction with blatant amusement written on his face—and Baze who is leaning back on his chair, messaging his jaw, face kept neutral.

“Papa’s here!” Bodhi easily replies as he moves to his father and hands out the phone.

“Māma.” Baze greets, speaking closely to the handset as Jyn and Bodhi return to their seats.

“Baze!” The woman barks, and the surrounding four children snicker at Baze’s exaggerated show of a wince.

“Māma.” Baze repeats.

“One year and I have not heard from you!” The woman snapped as Baze weakly grinned. “No letter! No note! I’m not sure if you know, but I’m not dead yet, young man!” Chirrut snorted.

“Of course not,” Baze placates, gently kicking at his husband’s foot. Chirrut’s grin widens.

“Then why in the world have I not received a word from you?”

“I’ve been busy?” Baze scrunches up his face as a sharp intake of breath can be heard from the other end of the line.

(The children exchange impish smirks).

“You’ve been _busy_.” The woman deadpans, unconvinced.

“Believe it or not, yes I have.” Baze replies with a huff of laughter. The old woman scoffs.

“You Yankees never have time for anything. City slickers.”

“Māma.” Baze soothes. “I apologize. Truly.” The woman clicks her tongue loudly with disproval and Chirrut bursts into silent giggles.

“Apologies.” The woman says sourly. “What have I done in my life to deserve an unfilial son? The next time you’ll visit me will be on my death-bed I presume?” Baze’s eyes widen.

“That’s not funny mother!” He cried out aghast, glaring as his husband ducks his head, shoulders slightly shaking. “You’re being dramatic.” The woman chuckles.

“Then bring that pretty husband of yours and my grandchildren over this summer! I haven’t laid my eyes on them for about two years!”

Baze sighs.

“I need to ask for permission of leave first.”

“Ask?” The woman restates, as if the word offended her. “ _Permission_? You’ve been in the department for the past thirteen years! _You’re a Malbus_. You don’t need to _ask_!”

“That’s not how it works, mother.” Baze exhales fondly, rolling his eyes.

“You’re coming home this summer.” The old woman declares, leaving no room for argument. “Non-negotiable.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Don’t give me _if’s_ and _but’s_. You _will_.”

“ _Mother_.”

“ _Son_.”

“Son-in- _law_.” Chirrut chimes in from under his breath, garnering a frown from his husband, but of course, Chirrut can’t see it, so it goes ignored.

“Fine.” Baze relents.

“Good.” The woman briskly states, ending that conversation. “Now, Chirrut. How are you my dear?”

 

When the phone call ends, Baze sets the handset on the table and blinks.

“Papa’s in trouble.” Bodhi says in a low voice, hiding his grin by taking a sip of orange juice. His brothers and sister giggle while Chirrut smirks.

“He’s more than in trouble. He’s going straight to the time-out corner when he gets home.”

“I haven’t sat in that corner for years…”

 

* * *

 

Baze manages to coax his supervisor for a month off.

The following weekend he, his husband, and his children pack all their belongings into the back of the van.

They head for Prescott Valley, Arizona that Wednesday. It’s a 35 hour drive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god that syllabus and course introduction week wasn't as busy as I thought. My Anatomy & Physiology class is probably gonna kill me this semester though, but we'll see.
> 
> Also, as promised, the fun times have begun. Not saying there won't be any future sadness, but they're a happy family now and no one is hurting. They all have each other, and that's the biggest thing that matters!
> 
> Anywho, who's ready for a road trip chapter? And meeting grandma Malbus? (Yes, I had to make her, because why not?) As well as a possible story of how Baze and Chirrut met?
> 
> Those are just a few things to look forward to. Thank you guys so much for the support you have given me thus far!


	6. A Thousand Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve never really considered how any place can be so red.” Cassian replies.
> 
>  
> 
> In which four siblings and two dads are cramped together in a car for the majority of three days; beds are shared, there's a lot of singing, and there's some frustrations, but in the end it's all worth it, and they love each other very much.

“I never really realized how New York is so big…” Cassian breaths out in wonder as he stares out his window, looking across the long stretch of Manhattan Bridge and into the expanse of city lying before them.

“Cass…we lived here all our lives,” Kaytoo states impassively, regarding his brother with a raised eyebrow. “New York is… New York.” Cassian turns to look at Kaytoo with a frown.

“Well, yeah, but we grew up in _Brooklyn_ , and Brooklyn is big enough on its own… we never really left outside of its boundaries if you think about it. Never really had a reason to…” Kaytoo blinks in consideration.

“True. Brooklyn born and raised...”

“One day, we should go see Manhattan.” Bodhi leans forward, poking his head onto the isle between Cass and Kay’s seat. “Take a walk around Time Square!”

“Oh, Time Square is so pretty at night!” Jyn pipes up from her seat behind Kaytoo. “I remember; Dad took me there once at around Christmas.” Her voice goes soft. “And mom brought our ice skates… I don’t remember much because I was little, but I sorta miss that—and the _lights_.”

Cassian looks over his shoulder and watches as Jyn looks out her window wistfully. She’s still dressed in her pajamas, holding a blanket over her front, hair just a bit frizzy from hopping out of bed without running it through with a brush…

“Hey, Baze?” Cassian calls out. “Chirrut?”

“Yes, Cass?”

“Do you think we can head over to Times Square this winter?” He proposes, and Baze looks up at the rear view mirror, eyes crinkled at the corners and Cassian knows he’s smiling.

(Leaning a bit from where she sits, Jyn tears her gaze from the window and switches her attention towards her adoptive fathers, eyes alight with hope).

“I don’t see why not.  It might be a bit crowded, but we’ll find time.” Baze nods.

“Come to think of it,” Chirrut shifts in his seat, building on his husband’s statement. “What better way to celebrate our first winter holiday together as a full family?”

Cassian’s heart lifts a little. He hadn’t thought of that—how the upcoming winter break would be the first winter holidays he would spend with a group of people he can call family...a unit he truly felt a part of. His suggestion was primarily meant for Jyn… he hadn’t even considered...

“We’ll teach you, Kay!” Bodhi’s laugh brings Cassian out of his reverie and he switches his attention to his brothers—Bodhi playfully teasing about Kaytoo’s inability to ice skate, let alone rollerblade.

“If you think I’m trusting you dragging me across a sheet of ice—” Kaytoo sulks, and Cassian grins.

“Aw, but we’ll be holding your hands, Kay.” Jyn sings playfully from her seat, giving the back of Kaytoo’s chair a little nudge with her foot. While Kaytoo scowls, Jyn catches Cassian’s eye; the smile she grants him is brighter than New York’s rising sun.

 

* * *

 

“How much longer until we get there?” Jyn asks, two hours into the drive.

“33 more hours,” Baze replies with some amusement. “Granted that we don’t count any stops along the way. We’ve barely passed Pennsylvania state lines. Don’t you remember the last road trip?”

“But it’s so _long_ ,” Jyn grumbled. “And I’m kinda hungry.”

“We’ll stop some place soon.”

“How come we didn’t just take a plane?” Kaytoo chimes in tiredly as he sets his PSP on his lap. Cassian had dozed off while Jyn and Bodhi were playing on their Nintendo DS’s for the past hour, making grunts and hisses (and in Jyn’s case, tiny swears under her breath) throughout their game play.

“Last minute flight tickets were hard to come across. Not enough seating.”

“How soon is _soon_ though?” Bodhi asked curiously from his seat, peering up from his DS. “It’s already nine, papa. Are we just gonna wait until lunch?”

“No, it won’t be that long of a wait. I was thinking more of brunch.” There’s a collective groan from Bodhi and Jyn making Baze rolls his eyes. “Harrisburg isn’t that far away. Just another hour.” There’s another groan, and Chirrut sighs.

“I honestly don’t blame them,” Chirrut turns to face his husband. “I could really use a moment to stretch my legs.”

“We can’t keep stopping every two hours for everyone to stretch their legs. Just wait till Harrisburg; we’ll stay there for an hour to eat and walk around some. Get gas. Stuff like that.” Baze side eyes his husband, Chirrut obnoxiously blowing air out through his lips. “You guys are complaining now. You remember we still have to pass through Kansas.”

“ _No_!” Jyn and Bodhi cry out simultaneously, and when Baze looks up at the rear view mirror, he sees his two children staring back at him, wearing identical expressions of horror, heads tilted towards one another in a joint effort to establish eye contact with him through the aisle. He can _feel_ their climbing dread.

“Kansas is awful!”

Kaytoo peers over his shoulder with interest.

Cassian lets out a snore.

“It’s _flat_!” Jyn protests.

“It’s _boring_!” Bodhi adds.

“It’s part of our route.” Baze says with finality, and the two huff, leaning back into their seats with dismay but not uttering another word.

“I thought we were taking I-40?” Chirrut leans in towards Baze, speaking in a hushed volume with a furrow between his brows.

“We _will_ be taking I-40.”

“But doesn’t I-70 cut through Kansas?”

“They don’t need to know that.”

 

2.5 HOURS AFTER HARRISBURG

“Oh my god, Jyn!” Kaytoo snarls. “Stop kicking my seat!”

“I’m not kicking your seat,” Jyn pronounces innocently, proceeding to kick her brother’s seat.

“You’re kicking my seat!”

_“Kids…”_

“Am not!”

“Are too!” Kaytoo twists his body to the best of his ability and spies Jyn smirking at him. He grabs at her sketchbook that’s laying unguardedly at her lap.

“Hey!” She cried out indignantly. “Give it back!”

“Only if you stop kicking my seat.”

_“Kids…”_

“Baze, Kay took my sketchbook!”

_“Kay…”_

“Jyn started it! She won’t stop kicking my seat!”

_“Jyn!”_

“I’ll stop if he gives my sketchbook back!”

 _“Kids…”_ Chirrut and Baze say together with shared exhaustion.

“Hey!” Kaytoo yelps, when Cassian reaches over and takes the sketchbook from him and proceeds to stuff it in the door pocket beside him. “Dude!”

“Give me my sketchbook, Cass!”

 _“All of you!”_ Baze finally barks, patience ticking due to his children not letting him speak. “Jyn, switch places with Bodhi! Cassian, give Jyn her sketchbook back! Jyn…Kay, both of you apologize right now, or so help me God, _I will turn this car around!”_

There’s a sound of seatbelts clicking and shuffling movement, both Jyn and Bodhi quickly changing sides. Cassian hands Jyn her sketchbook through the aisle, and Kaytoo huffs a resentful apology.

There’s an awkward silence.

“I guess I can play DJ?” Chirrut proposes, hand already making its way for the stereo.

World War II breaks out.

“I call the alternative station!” Cassian blurts a little too loudly. Jyn instinctively kicks his seat.

“No one wants to listen to your emo stuff!”

“It’s not _emo_!” Cassian defends hotly, turning in his chair. “Emo is a separate genre from _alternative_ —”

“But—”

“No one wants to listen to your Top-40 either!” Kaytoo snaps at his sister before she can speak, sending her a glower which leads her to look at him with disdain.

Baze just wants to hit his head on the steering wheel.

“Bodhi, what do _you_ want?” Chirrut asks loudly over his squabbling children. Bodhi, who had resorted to staring out his window and keeping his peace, blinks in surprise and catches his whole family staring at him (Baze taking quick glances at the rear view mirror).

“Errr…” He begins.

“That’s not a radio station.” Kaytoo rolls his eyes and Bodhi frowns in his direction.

“One: that was _rude_.” He begins, causing Cassian to snort. “And two: how about a radio station that has a little bit of everything?” He suggests, scratching at his neck. “I don’t really care. Anything’s good. I don’t mind.” Chirrut beams with approval.

“That sounds fair. Baze, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah—that sounds like a _great_ idea,” Baze mumbles non-committedly. “Just no more arguing please?”

 

ABOUT ONE HOUR & 5 MINUTES LATER

A sound of a piano plays through the speakers, and Kaytoo lets out a small groan to himself.

“Oh god, not this song.” He murmurs into his hands.

(Meanwhile, Cassian plays on his PSP, paying no attention to his surroundings. Chirrut is napping, his head tipped against the window while Baze drives on with a blank expression on his face. Jyn continues sketching out a picture of an octopus and Bodhi… Bodhi hums softly, watching as cars fly by.)

_Making my way downtown,_   
_Walking fast,_   
_Faces past_   
_And I’m home bound._

Bodhi quietly sings along to the words. Jyn, from the corner of her eye, takes a glance and smiles at her brother’s voice.

_Staring blankly ahead,_   
_Just making my way,_   
_Making a way_   
_Through the crowd._

Jyn shuts her sketchbook, careful to not make any noise.

_And I need you…_

Jyn sings, startling Bodhi from his trance, forcing him to look at her with surprise. She grins and only nods at him encouragingly.

_And I miss you…_

Bodhi begins, tentatively smiling as he joins his sister.

_And now I wonder…_

Cassian and Kaytoo turn around just before the two hit the chorus; Cassian’s eyes are lit with amusement and Kaytoo’ expression is aghast.

 _If I could fall into the sky,_  
_Do you think time_  
 _Would pass me by?_  
 _‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand miles_  
 _If I could just see you tonight._

 

It isn’t long until Cassian joins in as well after catching Kaytoo’s look of exasperation.

Their mingled voices get louder, causing Chirrut to wake up.

It takes the man a moment to understand what’s going on before he chuckles to himself and turns the volume up higher. The sound of his three children belting out to Vanessa Carlton only urges him to join in.

 _If I could fall into the sky,_  
_Do you think time_  
 _Would pass me by?_  
 _‘Cause_   **You are now entering West Virginia.**

“NO!” Jyn, Cassian, and Bodhi shout out, partially annoyed at the GPS’ interruption, making Chirrut laugh at their dismay.

**Keep left at the fork to stay on I-70 West.**

The song picks up again, and the kids, through their giggles, continue singing the small bit that’s left. When Baze peers up at the rear view mirror, he sees Cassian looking out the window, singing without any shame. Jyn and Bodhi are playfully trying to out-sing the other, with Bodhi clearly winning quality-wise because Jyn is trying too hard to be the loudest. And Kaytoo… Kaytoo’s expression is downright _murderous_ and it makes Baze chuckle in his seat.

 

* * *

 

It’s a quarter after nine in the evening when they hit Richmond, Indiana—just a little over the Indiana-Ohio state boundary.

“Are we gonna stop somewhere for the night, papa?” Bodhi asks from where he’s seated. Jyn, who had decided to move away from her window seat, was currently sitting in the middle, allowing her the ability to rest her head on Bodhi’s shoulder, the girl walking between the line of consciousness and sleep.

“We’ll stop at Indianapolis for the night. I’m trying to squeeze out another hour.” Baze replies. The man blinks blearily at the lit road; the past 14 hours having already taken its toll. “Do you guys want anything to eat? Dinner?”

“Not really,” There’s a collective mumble amongst the kids, and Cassian fails to stifle a yawn. “Too much snacks.”

“Straight to a motel it is, then.” Baze says quietly to himself. He turns to take a brief glance at his husband who’s nodding off, waking when he catches himself leaning too far forward.

 

“Jay.” Bodhi whispers gently into his sister’s ear.

“Mmm.”

“Jay, wake up.” He says, nudging her slightly. Jyn blinks and sleepily looks around at her surroundings.

_That’s right… I’m still in a car._

“Bee?”

“Look out the windshield,” he says, bumping his shoulder softly against hers. “That’s Indianapolis. Look at the skyline.”

Wiping the sleep out of her eyes, she gazes out and sees the glimmering outline of the city, how it shines in stark contrast to the indigo sky.

“It’s real pretty, Bee.” She murmurs.  It’s different from the lights of New York; seeing a foreign city glowing from the distance. From where she sits, she watches as Cassian and Kaytoo prod each other and point to all the buildings emitting bright silver and gold.

 “When I get my license, we’re going on a _real_ road trip.” Bodhi quietly states, Jyn barely catching it. “We’ll stop in every city and hit all the states. Camp out in the Rockies…”

“Take me to California,” Jyn whispers, closing her eyes again. “I wanna go to the beach.”

“We should go to Mexico,” Cassian pitches in, turning in his seat, having heard his siblings’ conversation.

“Washington?” Kaytoo shrugs when Bodhi looks at him expectantly.

“It’s a plan.”

 

Baze pulls into the first decent looking inn he sees. The sign overlooking the street reads FREE HOT BREAKFAST and the parking lot seems occupied enough.

“I’ll go talk with the front desk. See if they have any rooms available.” He announces to a car full of half-dead passengers. When he returns, he tells them that it’s okay to get out. Cassian and Kaytoo exit out of the car first, followed by a stumbling Jyn and a watchful Bodhi. Chirrut is already at his husband’s side when the kids huddle around them and blink owlishly.

“Are you kids okay with sharing a bed? You might have to squeeze some.” Baze gently informs, and there’s a choir of jumbled “yes.”

 

Jyn is the first to dive into bed, rolling herself to the middle, not even bothering about getting buried under covers. Cassian huffs out a tired laugh and takes his place to her right, prying the shoes off her feet before unlacing his own. Kaytoo sits at the foot of the bed and kicks his shoes off before crawling to Jyn’s unoccupied left, pulling the covers and slipping underneath them, planting his face into the pillow. He’s asleep within seconds. Bodhi, who had taken his shoes off near the door, walks over to Cassian’s side.

“Scoot over,” He mumbles, and Cassian shifts without argument, allowing his brother to slide in beside him.

 

“I think they’re knocked out.” Chirrut states from his side of the bed when Baze returns from the bathroom having finished brushing his teeth. Baze looks over at his kids, and a fond smile finds its place on his lips.

Cassian is lying on his back, face angled towards Bodhi who seems curled in a fetal position under the blankets, facing his brother. Cassian’s right arm is crossed against his chest, Jyn’s fingers having somehow found his, their loosely touching hands placed just over his heart. Jyn is in a fetal position as well, facing Cass, and Kaytoo must have mistaken Jyn as a pillow because he holds her close.

“Where are you going?” Chirrut questions in a loud whisper when he hears Baze walk away from their bed. Baze rummages around inside a backpack Chirrut had brought with him into the hotel room and pulls out a camera.

“Creating memories.” Baze answers simply as he take a few pictures from different angles. “The photos will make wonderful stories one day when they get married.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Kaytoo is the first to wake up, and to his disgust, with a mouthful of Jyn’s hair. He shoves her away, realizing he’s cuddling his little sister, and triggers a chain reaction.

Jyn wakes with a start, sitting upward and simultaneously yanking Cassian’s arm with her. Cassian rouses with a startled yelp, which makes Bodhi groan, sit up, and hit Cassian with his pillow.

“Why am I being attacked?” Cassian whines, Bodhi’s pillow muffling his speech.

“Because you’re loud, Cass. Shut up.” Bodhi grumbles, wiping at his eyes and staring at his other two siblings who are sitting up in bed, having a glaring match. Bodhi clears his throat.

“Should we go down and find where the free breakfast is at then?” Jyn asks when Kaytoo breaks eye contact out of mild annoyance.

“Shouldn’t we wait for dad and papa to get up first?” Bodhi yawns. Kaytoo looks over to his adoptive fathers who are still asleep.

“Nah. They probably won’t be up for a while.” He looks over to the alarm clock beside him. “It’s only seven in the morning.” Clambering out of bed Kaytoo sluggishly walks to where he had kicked off his shoes the night before. “You guys coming?” He asked when he looks up and sees his siblings blinking at him, Cassian having finally arise from his brooding. They all scramble out of bed to slip into their shoes.

“We should at least leave a note,” Bodhi suggests, looking around for a pen and paper pad.

“You do that.” Kay nods, making his way for the door. “We’ll just… meet you downstairs or something.”

 

Thirty minutes later, the buzzer goes off and Baze moans, forcing himself to turn around and disable the alarm. Upon repositioning his body, he finds the bed next to him empty and in a disarray. Groaning, he slams the button on top of the alarm clock still steadily beeping and leans over his husband, gently shaking him.

“Chirrut.” Baze murmurs gently. “Chirrut, wake up. The kids have already gone down for breakfast.”

Chirrut rouses.

“Seven thirty already?” He asks, sitting up and scratching at his jaw with a furrow between his brows.

“Unfortunately.” Baze grumbles, drowsily watching his husband stretch as he lets his head fall back into his pillow.

“Shame we have to get up.” Chirrut states before lowering himself down. “It’s so early, and I’m still so _tired_.” He allows a leg and arm to snake around his husband’s body and buries his face into Baze’s shirt. “ _If I lay here_ ,” He begins to sing, causing Baze to groan. Chirrut giggles. “ _If I just lay here, will you lie with me and just forget the world._ ”

“Chirrut, get up.” Baze comments without heat. “Our children are unleashed freely into the world right now.”

 _Forget what we're told_  
_Before we get too old_  
 _Show me a garden that's bursting into life._

“Why do I put up with you?” He sighs as Chirrut continues crooning out of key, progressively becoming louder. Baze feels his husband shift around; Chirrut propping his chin on Baze’s chest, a sweet smile hanging freely on his mouth.

“Because you love me very much.” He states simply, and yeah… Baze does.

Baze loves this grown ass man-child to death. Chirrut may not sing like an angel, but then again, Baze doesn’t believe in angels, so he supposes it’s alright. Baze believes in _Chirrut_ , and at the end of the day, his real and tangible family is all that matters to him.

 

* * *

 

It’s an hour and thirty minutes of a drive when they reach Marshall, Illinois; a small city close to the Illinoi-Indiana border with a population of 3,000.

“So who has a fun car game we can play?” Cassian sighs, looking at all three of his siblings.

“I-Spy?” Bodhi offers, but not with much enthusiasm.

“God, no.” Kaytoo objects. Bodhi shrugs, the rejection of his idea not tarnishing his feelings at all.

“There’s a game we play in Language Arts class.” Jyn begins, and both Cassian and Kaytoo turn in their seats to look at her, Bodhi also granting her his fullest attention.

“What is it?” Cassian asks, because he’s desperate.

“We play it sometimes when it’s creative writing hour. Someone sets up a story in one minute, and then another person builds up on that story, and then another. We keep going around until the story ends or when someone doesn’t take up their whole turn and blanks out. Everyone gets up to fifteen seconds to think and about two minutes to talk, which is supposed to encourage you to be quick on your feet.” She shrugs. “It might be fun.”

Cassian and Kaytoo exchange looks before nodding.

“Why not—we’ll give it a go.” Cassian relents. “No offense Bodhi, but it’s better than I-Spy.”

“I’m starting though.” Kaytoo declares. He licks his bottom lip and goes into thought.

“Who wants to keep track of time?” Jyn asks, and Chirrut from the front seat lifts his hand.

“I will!” and Kaytoo clears his throat.

“Alright, I’ve got something.” Kaytoo begins, and his siblings simultaneously lean in with interest.

 

_“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…”_

 

When Kaytoo’s scene ends with Chirrut calling out ‘time’, his siblings stare at him awestruck.

“How do you come up with the name _Kylo Ren_?” Cassian asks hoarsely.

“Why did you have to begin the story so _violent_?” Bodhi demands.

“Go big or go home.” Kaytoo leans back, crossing his arms feeling rather satisfied. “I set up a story that wouldn’t be boring. Don’t screw it up.”

“Your soldier slashed through a man within the first minute in search for a knight and a lost map! Then ordered an execution of a village. Who starts a story that way?” Bodhi states in disbelief, and Kaytoo blinks.

“ _I_ clearly do. Now you have to work with it.”

“Cass, you’re next.” Jyn announces, bouncing in her seat and Cassian’s eyes widen.

“Fuck.”

“Watch the strong language!” Baze reprimands from the driver’s seat, but it comes out more amused than anything.

 

_“The captured man who was brought down to his knees is a young knight, Sir Edgar Daemon…”_

 

“Unbelievable,” Bodhi grumbles, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You guys are gonna be _great_ story tellers when you have kids one day.” He scratches at his nose, blinking wearily.

“Sorry, Bodhi. Had to be done.”  Cassian smiles wanly, twisting around to look at his younger brother. “I could use somebody to save my butt though.”

“ ’Course you do.”

 

_“Phineas looks around, heart beating wildly in his chest as he makes for Sir Daemon’s cell. He’s not sure if he can pull this off—just a lowly ground soldier with nothing to lose but his life if he’s not careful. But this is his choice, and he wants to do what’s right.”_

“Jyn, don’t you dare screw this up!” Cassian looks at his little sister wildly when it becomes her turn. “Me and Bodhi just escaped from Ren’s Dungeon Hell. Don’t you dare ruin this for me!” She flashes him a sweet smile.

“I’m way ahead of you, brother.”

 

_“A fork in the road approaches and the sounds of an angry cavalry come closer from behind. The two men on horseback are forced to separate....”_

“I can’t believe you killed me off!” Cassian scoffs, eyeing Jyn with disbelief. “My character got shot off a cliff just so your peasant Raechel can be Bodhi’s new _bestie_!” He glares when Kaytoo snickers from his seat.

“It’s not just my story to tell, Cass.” Jyn says, flashing him a meaningful look. “I didn’t say _where_ Sir Daemon got shot, did I? He’s only dead if you confirm him to be dead.”

 

The story rolls on, each one of the kids telling their parts with ease, crying out with indignation at some parts and expressing approval at others…

 

_““I will finish what you started.” Kylo Ren swears on the charred, rusted helmet of his dead grandfather…”_

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Bodhi whispers at Kaytoo with a twitching eye. “That isn’t… That’s not…”

“Motive.” Kaytoo nods in a tone leaving no room for argument. “He needs a reason for his crimes. His is for being misled. Let’s say his grandfather was an iconic figure for the kingdom’s previous reigning Empire, right? — We’ll name him Darth Vader, right-hand man for the ruling tyrant named…uh… Emperor Sideous. Ren wants to be like Vader, amongst other things…”

 

_“Raechel stalks Ren, teeth bared, sword clutched in white-knuckled hands, and in this moment, she does not feel mercy...”_

 

“You could’ve let Raechel finish him!” Cassian expresses with surprise, looking at his sister with incredulity. “Why didn’t you?”

“It would’ve been too easy,” Jyn shrugs before Kaytoo can open his mouth. “And good stories don’t end with an easy ending.” Kaytoo looks around his seat and flashes her an approving smile.

“See? She gets it.”

 

It ends with Raechel holding out the legendary sword of Sir Lucian, its owner a greying man in heavy robes. Kaytoo describes that there’s a look in Raechel’s eyes—a look asking for the old knight to take back his sword because she did not sail across the unforgiving seas only to be turned away.

By the time their story wraps up, they’re passing by the small city of Sullivan, Missouri. Three hours have passed and the kids decide that it’s one of the shortest stretches of time that has come and gone on the road so far.

 

* * *

 

They stop at Oklahoma City for the night.

It’s a warm evening and the inn room they’re checked into is just as humid and stuffy—the air conditioning system busted.

“Dad? Papa?” Bodhi asks, sprawled out on the bed he’s sharing with his siblings. He can feel his shirt stick to his skin. “Can we go out swimming? It’s hot in here.” Kaytoo stops flicking through the television channels and perks upward from his slouched over position.

“Can we please?” Cassian asks (pleads) from where he’s leaning near the window sill despite the fact that there is little-to-no breeze coming in through the screen. “No one’s there right now. We’d have it all to ourselves!”

Jyn’s already sitting on the floor, toeing off her shoes, when she looks to her adoptive fathers eagerly.

“Did you guys even bring bathing suits?” Baze asks from where he sits on the foot of his and Chirrut’s bed.

“Anything’s a bathing suit if you’re desperate enough.” Chirrut remarks, standing up and peeling off his shirt. “Let’s go.” He’s clad in a ratty pair of basketball shorts that sit loosely at his hips, but Baze focuses in on his husband’s bare abdomen instead.

“I…actually can’t argue with that.” Baze decides, still observing the muscles on Chirrut’s body, and Chirrut… Chirrut knowingly _smirks_.

“I _know_ that you can’t say no.” There’s a change in his tone, and the kids don’t miss it.

“And I know I’m _leaving_.” Kaytoo coughs before darting towards the exit.

“I’m racing you there!” Cassian declares, shoving Kaytoo playfully out of the way as he staggers out the door. Bodhi’s hot on their tracks, face flushed by his parents’ antics, dragging Jyn behind him for the sake of her innocence while she looks back at the men curiously.

The door shuts with a slam.

“I think we scared the kids away.” Baze intones nonchalantly, hooking his fingers into the waistline of Chirrut’s basketball shorts.

“Oh dear, how terrible of us.” Chirrut giggles.

“I really can’t go swimming in these sweat pants though.”

“Then let me help you out of them.”

 

* * *

 

The next day they stop by a small city called Tucumcari, New Mexico with a population of a little over 5,000.

“Are we gonna be at grandma’s soon?” Bodhi asks, taking a sip from his strawberry shake and stirring the beverage with his straw. “I don’t remember our last trip taking forever.” The whole family is nestled in a booth of a retro diner, having a late lunch—Chirrut and Baze are sharing a seat while the four kids are sitting across from them, shoulders touching.

“Well let’s see,” Baze begins, setting down his burger. “It’s almost two in the afternoon now,” He holds out two fingers. “We have about another eight hour drive still ahead. If we drive straight, we’ll make it there at around ten tonight.”

“That’s nice. We should update your mother. Let her know we’ll be crashing in past her bed time.” Chirrut bites into his fry with a hint of a grin on his face and Baze sighs.

(The two are sporting bright, identical hickies from the night before. It’s a sight the children pretend doesn’t exist.)

(Jyn had asked her brothers the night before why they were so hell-bent on leaving the room. Kaytoo splashed her and asked if she was really that dumb. It was Bodhi who kindly told her that sometimes adults needed to do adult-y things by themselves.)

(Later, upon seeing the love-bites on Chirrut's torso under the tall street lamps, it was enough for Jyn to connect the dots.)

(She hasn't been the same since.)

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Baze watches as Jyn un-subtly takes a sweet potato fry from Kaytoo’s plate, while Kaytoo helps himself to a slice of bacon that’s sticking out of Cassian’s BLT sandwich.

Cassian is taking fries from both his brothers and dipping them into Kaytoo’s chocolate ice cream sundae.

Bodhi…Bodhi’s just happy with his shake.

The scene makes for a pretty picture.

“Chirrut?” Baze prompts. “Can you pass me the camera?”

 

They’re already in the western regions of New Mexico, past Albuquerque, when the sandstone cliffs come into view—the landscape of New Mexico (and later, Arizona) become more defined as the children take in colors of pale dusted red, yellow, and orange.

“It’s very pretty out here.” Bodhi absentmindedly comments to no one in particular as the rugged terrain comes and goes. He remember driving though these places, but they never cease to amaze him.

Jyn hums her agreement; her hand dancing across her sketchbook, lines being lightly set upon paper.

“I’ve never really considered how any place can be so _red_.” Cassian replies.

“Just wait until sunset.” Baze adds in. His children look up at him curiously, wanting him to continue. “When the sky turns violet and the sun sets in the horizon, everything seems to burn.”

And he would know. Baze was born here in the American Southwest. He had skinned his knees on these cliffs as a teenager—tasted the sand and dust in his mouth as a boy. He ran from rattlesnakes and kept lizards as pets.

He may have found home in Brooklyn with Chirrut, but this is where he comes from.

And it’s good to be back.

 

* * *

 

It’s 10:30 at night when the six of them crowd around Jie Malbus’ front door with their bags at their feet.

Jyn and Bodhi stand closest to the door with their fathers behind them. Behind Baze and Chirrut, Cassian and Kaytoo stand side-by-side, nervous energy emitting from both boys.

The line-up was planned quickly in the car before pulling into the driveway. Baze’s mother doesn’t know her two other grandsons exist—it’s all a big surprise.

As the front door pulls open and they’re bathed in yellow light, it takes everything in Cassian and Kaytoo to not peer around Baze and Chirrut’s larger figures.

“Năinai!” Jyn and Bodhi cry out to a small, old woman with salt-and-peppered hair.

Jyn is the first to walk in the house and embrace her hard. When she lets go, Jie places a soft hand on Jyn’s cheek.

“You, young lady, have grown more beautiful since the last time I saw you.” She grins when Jyn ducks her head a little shyly. “You’re nine now, yes?” She asks and when Jyn nods, Jie’s smile turns a little sly. “I bet all the pretty boys are chasing after you… Pretty _girls_...”

“Grandma,” Jyn flushes, laughing nervously.

“Jay scares them all away.” Bodhi pipes up playfully, and Jyn sticks her tongue out at him. Turning around, Jie puts her hands on her hips.

“What are you all still doing, standing outside for? Get in!” There’s a shuffling, people moving inside the house as Jie takes Bodhi by the hand and pulls him into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, Grandma.” Bodhi murmurs to the woman’s hair. When the two pull away, the old woman grabs him by the cheek.

“It’s good to see you too, young man.” When she lets go, she eyes him sternly. “Now don’t tease your sister like that!” She lets her eyes quickly roam Bodhi’s gangly figure before she clicks her tongue. “You’re growing fast. Too fast for my taste. I still have photographs from when you were still our little Bodhi Bug.”

It’s Bodhi’s turn to blush, and Jyn doesn’t bother hiding her snickers.

“Now, where’s my two boys at?” Jie rounds at Baze and Chirrut who are positioned near the coat closet, standing close to one another. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “What? No hug?”

“We have a surprise gift actually.” Chirrut explains, smiling easily. Jie’s eyebrows raise in disbelief.

“A _gift_.” She echoes, slowly approaching her son and son-in-law. “You brought a _gift_ for me?”

“Two gifts.” Baze corrects, and grins when his mother sharply looks at him. The woman eyes the nearby duffle bags on the floor with suspicion.

“I’m 68 years old with little use for material belongings—what kind of gifts could you have possibly gotten me?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Chirrut gazes sightlessly at the ceiling before stepping aside and Baze doing the same. “Maybe two more grandkids?”

The old woman blinks at two boys that appear in her field of vision. Standing at the forefront (and the smaller of the two) is a boy with unruly, black hair and milky skin; honey-colored eyes regarding her with uncertainty. And then standing behind him is a taller boy with tan skin and tidy, dark-brown hair who is frozen in place and unsure of what to do next.

“Surprise!” Bodhi cuts through the silence, and Jie’s face softens. Making a few steps, she approaches Kaytoo first and lifts both her hands to frame his face.

“And what’s your name?” She asks with a quirk to her lips.

“My name’s Kaytoo So, ma’am.” He then swallows when she drops her hands and wrinkles her nose.

“No, no, no. We can’t have that. Don’t call me _ma’am_ —too stiff. Too formal. It makes me feel _old_. It’s bad enough that I already am!” She’s grins up at him though, and Kaytoo can’t help but slowly smile back. “Just call me Jie, if saying ‘grandmother’ or ‘năinai’ is too much.” When she pulls him in for an embrace, Kaytoo takes a second to register the contact before fiercely hugging back.

“Okay.” Kaytoo nods. When he pulls away, the woman eyes him patiently. “Năinai.” He says, the word slipping from his lips before he can help it, and it feels foreign to his tongue—but the woman’s eyes shine brightly, and Kaytoo decides that as weird as it feels, it also feels _right_.

The woman looks over to Baze with a lopsided smile and arched brow.

“Is this what you’ve been too busy to call me for?” She questions and Baze shrugs.

“Adoption processes aren’t exactly easy.” Baze smiles apologetically, and Jie considers that she can take his excuse this time.

“And you, young man. What’s your name?” Jie nods over to Cassian.

“Cassian Andor.” He croaks out, and Jie reaches for both his wrists, tugging him gently to come close, thumbs rubbing gently against his skin. “But you can call me Cass.”

“Cass, huh?” Jie softly echoes. She drops his wrists and hugs him tightly too. Cassian wraps his arms around her almost immediately, vision blurring slightly because this fiery woman he knows little about suddenly means so much to him.

(Because Cassian never knew his own grandparents and probably never will…or at least, for a long, long time…)

(Because Kaytoo never had parents of his own but can’t stomach calling Baze and Chirrut ‘ _dad’_ because for so long the word has been twisted with the definition of ‘ _abuse’_ and ‘ _hate’_ and ‘ _non-existent’_ … but Kaytoo just called this woman ‘ _năinai_ ,’ which is Chinese for ‘ _grandmother,’_ and Kaytoo using family titles makes Cassian weak to his knees…)

(And this woman is holding him now as the tears spill over, and Cassian supposes that he must be silly, but the ridiculousness he feels is overshadowed by the love and acceptance this woman bears him and Kay…)

“Welcome home, Cass.” She says, and Cassian decides that he loves Jie Malbus very much.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to make a shout out to Google Maps, which made mapping out this road trip easier in terms of time approximations, what cities the fam stopped at and drove through, etc...
> 
> I hoped this chapter was worth the hype? I know you guys were delighted upon finding out that there was gonna be a road trip chapter, and I hope this came out okay? 
> 
> Also, yeah--I pulled in some of SW: TFA, but changed the names a bit and tweaked the whole setting, because in this universe, Luke does exist--so that means Leia and Han exist (even though we haven't exactly met any of the three yet), so that means Ben Solo isn't alive yet, and I really want to tie in Rey and Finn later on, which means Poe exists too. (I know, this sounds like a mess right now, and I'm rambling, but I've got so many disconnected ideas with this universe guys...)
> 
> Also, I can't write sexy times to save my life, so I apologize for cutting it short at the scene when the kids took off running from the inn room upon their dads engaging on semi-PDA. Oops.
> 
> Coming up next--a little bit of back story on how Baze and Chirrut met? Feat. Grandma Malbus? More domestic fluff abound! 
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, I know two chapters ago, I mentioned about the kids going to Manhasset zoned schools, and if you guys caught it here, I mentioned they grew up in Brooklyn? Yeah, I figured I should go ahead and address that since Manhasset and Brooklyn are nowhere close to each other. Let me put this out there that I'm from Texas and have never set foot in NY ever. I use Google Maps for choosing a setting and Manhasset MS seemed like a decent place for the kids to attend school in, and that area in general seems like a good place for our spacedads to be raising kids...  
> Anyway, Manhasset is actually hella classy....like, think white-collar sophisticated families and homes priced as some of America's most expensive neighborhoods. While our space fam is definitely financially stable, I don't envision them driving around in private golf courses and sipping martinis from the patios of a mansion. So I relocated them to Brooklyn, and yeahhhh... Sorry about that. That was a lazy slip up on my part. I also went back and changed the Manhasset MS bit to avoid further confusion to those who are well versed in NY geography.  
> If you're curious, I now have them settled around Kensington, Brooklyn--known for it's residential affordability and diverse population).


	7. How I Met Your Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The first day I met him in person, the fool broke into my dorm while I was in class and I found him sitting on my bed with a shit-eating grin on his face.”
> 
>  
> 
> In which we learn that the Skywalkers are still full of drama in any universe you stick them in and the kids learn that love is patient and love is kind (even when it has its thorns.)

It’s almost ten when the kids file one by one into the sun-lit kitchen the next day, slouching into a chair and grumbling a semi-coherent “good morning.”

Chirrut is already sitting at the table, sipping from a mug of coffee. Jie is tending a teakettle on the stove while Baze towers next to her, making omelets.

“Morning sleepyhead.” Chirrut states when he hears a chair beside him scrape loudly across the linoleum flooring. Kaytoo just grunts before tucking his head into his arms.

“Morning, Chirrut.”

 The man runs his hand up and down his son’s back sympathetically. None of his kids are early-risers, except perhaps Jyn, but she surprisingly hasn’t come downstairs yet.

Jie makes her way to the other seat beside Chirrut with a TV remote in her hands.

“We ought to see what’s on the news this morning, yeah?” She states as Bodhi walks in with wild bedhead, eyes just a bit unfocused, followed by an all-around-disheveled-looking Cassian. Jie switches on the small, boxy TV that’s complete with antennas, the set sitting on a nearby breakfast counter where it’s surrounded by potted plants.

_“Good morning everyone! It’s a beautiful Saturday morning, currently 10:00 and this is David Calhoun with Gina Clements, reporting to you live from Phoenix!”_ A middle aged man introduces himself with a plastic smile that’s come from years of routine.

“They look like Barbie dolls.” Kaytoo mutters with a hint of irritation, chin resting on his folded arms as he stares at the screen with boredom. Jie makes a sound of agreement.

_“Thank you David!”_ Gina, a woman with golden curls that sit on her shoulders, smiles flawlessly; her lips are painted a velvet red and her teeth are a sharp ivory.

“Do you ever think they ever get bored of their job?” Cassian asks from where he sits beside his grandmother, arms crossed. A different news reporter by the name of James Warren proceeds to cover traffic conditions along I-10. “The cameras? The fake smiles? Waking up at one or two in the morning to start covering news at four? Don’t they have to repeat the _same_ introductions and cover the _same_ stories for every news hour, and repeat, seven-days a week?”

“Some unlucky sucker has to do it. Better them than us.” Jie leans over and speaks to Cassian. Chirrut snickers as Bodhi snorts from his place by the fridge where he’s pulling out a carton of orange juice.

“Can you imagine though? _This is Chirrut Imwe and_ _Jie Malbus reporting to you from Channel 7, streaming live from Prescott!_ ” Chirrut announces, deepening his voice. Cassian looks over his shoulder to grin while Jie rolls her eyes fondly.

“The both of you wouldn’t last a minute as news anchors.” Baze intones, as he flips an omelet on the skillet.

“You guys want a glass?” Bodhi offers, waving out the box of orange juice in one hand and opening up a cupboard with his other. Kaytoo replies with a yes while Cassian calls out a preference for water instead. Meanwhile, Jyn bounds into the kitchen, dressed in jeans and a worn out soccer jersey, sliding herself into a seat near Kaytoo.

“Well looks who’s decided to finally join us.” Kaytoo dryly comments at his sister who blows a mocking kiss in his direction.

_“…And it seems like the Skywalkers are at it again!”_ Gina announces as the camera focuses back on her.

“Oh _boy_ , this ought to be good.” Jie turns the volume up as the children look at the screen with interest.

_“In D.C., Virginia House Representative Padme Amidala-Skywalker has partnered with New York Representative Bail Organa within the Committee of Foreign Affairs…”_

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Baze states, turning around and sipping from a mug of tea, regarding the television set with a raised eyebrow. “Both have made themselves impressively known throughout the legislature with their time in office. Amidala’s from Israel and her husband’s overseas fighting a war. Organa has strong ties to his Puerto Rican background. They run in the same platform. I suppose it makes sense that they’d introduce bills together on foreign policy to debate on the floor.”

_“Meanwhile in Iraq, General Skywalker is still reported MIA after the 501st Division conducted an attack…”_

“Skywalker’s missing in action?” Chirrut asks, leaning forward, surprised. “Since when?”

_“…status has been reported as MIA since last November…”_

“I suppose that answers your question.” Jie nods solemnly, stirring her own cup of tea that Bodhi had offered her.

“What’s so special about the Skywalkers?” Jyn questions from her seat as Baze begins to pass around plates.

“Politics.” Cassian replies, watching the screen attentively. “Padme Amidala-Skywalker is _constantly_ on the news.”

When Jie tears her focus away from the screen to consider her grandson thoughtfully, Kaytoo drawls out, “Watching the news is this nerd’s favorite hobby.” Baze hums in consideration before building upon his son’s answer.

“Cass isn’t wrong. Amidala’s one of the most ambitious representatives in the house. Her husband Anakin on the other hand, is one of the youngest soldiers to have climbed up so quickly through the military ranks. He’s supposedly reckless and stupidly _brave_ and went AWOL a few times in his lower rankings when he didn’t see eye-to-eye with his commanding officers.”

 “But AWOL means he ignored rules.” Jyn sharply points out. “They didn’t get rid of him for disobedience?” Baze shook his head while walking towards the stove to retrieve the omelets.

“Nah, he was too good at what he did. He came in swinging, and I suppose the higher-ups liked that.”

“How do you even know all this?” Cassian turns in his chair and regards his adoptive father, astounded. As Bodhi sinks into a seat, he furrows his eyebrows, eyes following Baze and demanding for some clarity.

“You never told us you were in the military. How else would you know?” The statement makes Baze shrug.

“I was an engineer for the navy after college. Nothing huge. Spent a lot of time in submarines. I signed up for active duty after obtaining an associate’s degree at 20. I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I was tired of Arizona. I got honorable discharge after completing my enlistment of 8 years and I went for fire-fighting. Skywalker was coming in fresh out of high school right when I was leaving, and he was all anybody could talk about— that Skywalker kid from the middle-of-nowhere Nevada that was beating everyone’s ass in the Air Force. Next thing I knew, he switched branches and joined the marines, and _still_ beat everyone’s ass.”

_“And how do you think America’s Sweethearts are taking this?”_ David Calhoun asks as the camera pans out to focus on both anchors. Gina lets out a fake little giggle that seems so out of place, the whole family cringes in their seats.

_“Oh, I’m sure that if they’re anything like their parents, Luke and Leia are taking this all in stride!”_ The screen transitions to a short YouTube clip of two children waving out sparklers while dancing in a sandy backyard. One child is a girl with her dark hair styled as a bun on top of her head, and the other is a boy with a mop of dirty-blond locks. _“And here’s a clip from New Years! I believe they were with their grandmother up in Nevada?”_ Gina states, and Jie scowls.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake! Leave the kids out of this!” She barks at the TV screen when Calhoun lets out a sound of saccharine adoration.

“Is it more of a blessing or a curse that America knows the names and faces of these children and already holds them up to standards, when they’re just barely six years old?” Chirrut thinks out loud.

“Curse.” Kaytoo answers without a blink, eyeing the television set with distaste. “With their parents, they’re consequently gonna be dragged into the public eye. They won’t have an ounce of privacy growing up.”

“I remember when the news broke out,” Jie begins, cutting into her omelet. She takes a sip of her tea before clearing her throat. “Back in ’99. Padme Amidala, child prodigy who had graduated high school two years early and about to finish her doctoral degree in law from Harvard—marrying some no-name desert boy with a smart mouth. No one knew how they got together in the first place. The world still doesn’t. Back in ’99 their marriage was a fresh scandal, seeing as Amidala came from a vocal, high-profile, white-collared family. The day their faces got plastered in newspapers was the day the world learned that the Skywalkers were going to carve their names in history.”

“That’s a bit dramatic.” Kaytoo raises a skeptical eyebrow, and Jie laughs.

“Just wait until you get older,” Jie informs, raising her cup of tea. “You’ll find out eventually that the Skywalkers are known for their trademarked drama. Hell, Amidala’s still so young; photographers still sneak photos of the woman doing ordinary tasks like shopping in NYC for the holidays. They comment about her sense of style.” Jie snorts. “It’s ridiculous.” Baze grins at his mother from his seat beside Bodhi.

“Is this how you keep yourself company, mother? Gossiping with other old ladies?”

“I’ve got to talk to someone now, don’t I?” She snaps back, but it comes without heat. “Was I supposed to talk to my plants for a whole year while I got nothing but radio silence from you?” Baze groans and opts to take a swig of his own beverage, the mug obscuring everyone’s view of his face.

“I mean, it’s cool that we know how the Skywalkers got together; but what about you and Chirrut?” Bodhi begins, tilting his head curiously, gaze flickering between his two fathers. “That’s a story I haven’t heard about yet. How did you guys meet? I mean, papa lived here in Arizona, and dad’s from New York? How did you guys even find each other?”

“Oh, they were elementary school pen-pals!” Jie butts in before either of the men can speak. She’s already getting up from her chair with new-found eagerness. “They wrote each other so many letters. In fact, I still have some stashed around here somewhere! Let me go find them!” She’s already bustling out of the kitchen with Baze calling out after her, eyeing the woman with wariness as she disappears, when Jyn looks over to her fathers with wide eyes.

“That means you must’ve known each other for forever!” She leans forward, pushing her plate away, losing interest in her meal, despite only taking two bites. “When did you guys even fall in love?”

“Sometime during Baze’s deployment.” Chirrut states easily, sipping at his coffee. “It took a long time for us to get together. Literally. Hell, we didn’t even physically meet until I was 17, and I knew him when I was six! Eleven years, can you believe? Anyway, I took a Greyhound Bus and made it cross-country. I had just graduated high school with no idea of what I wanted to do with my life, and so I decided to take a gap year… actually, it turned out to be _two_ … but I just… hit the road. Did some soul searching… I didn’t find out much about myself, but I did find my _soulmate._ ” Chirrut beams brightly and Baze rolls his eyes.

“You make it sound a whole lot sappier than it really is.” Baze grumbles and Chirrut scoffs, pointing his fork in Baze’s direction accusingly.

“Of course it was sappy! _You_ were the biggest sap of all and you didn’t even know it! Our love story is a like a _Lifetime_ soap opera! Boy meets Boy via pen-pal program. Boy has a long-distance friendship with Boy. The Boys meet. Boy falls in love with Boy. Boys go separate ways. Boys move in together and adopt four kids. The end. We’re a walking cliché!”

“You are leaving so much out…”

“True, but I’m not spoiling it just yet, you sap.”

“I was _not_ a _sap_.”

“If time has taught me anything, it’s that you’re always in denial, darling.” Chirrut sings teasingly.

“Wait, if Chirrut was straight out of high school, that means Baze was finishing up his first year of college.” Kaytoo looks over at Baze with furrowed eyebrows. “Weren’t you?”

“I was. I went to college down in Tempe,” Baze nods in confirmation. “I attended Arizona State University for three years. I started getting tired of studying about a year and a half in, but decided that I’d stick it out anyway and try to get my associate’s at the very least— I couldn’t just leave school empty handed, so I made sure I left with a degree in electrical engineering.”

“As much as he hated studying, he was the most dedicated student I’ve ever met.” Chirrut states earnestly, gazing in his husband’s direction. “Always burning himself out until two-to-three in the morning and needed constant reminders to eat something or stretch his legs. He took classes in-between fall and spring semester as well.” A soft smile graces Chirrut’s face. “Baze pulled through. He finished his education with a 4.0 grade average. The late nights were worth it. He made me proud...” 

 

 

 

_Baze is sitting at a desk in their humble apartment that they share. It had been half a year since they had met, Chirrut finally having convinced his friend away from that cramped dorm room situated in a roach-infested building._

_Baze is pouring through his notes made on loose-leaf paper and reviewing annotations he had made in his textbook when a heavy bag lands in front of him._

_Baze looks upward, startled, and finds Chirrut looking down at him with a stern frown. Blinking wearily, Baze looks back at the brown paper-bag that’s sitting on top of his open textbook._

_“Chirrut. What is that?”_

_“Food, what else would it be? There was an open stand while I was walking back from the shop and I thought of you and your terrible habit of forgetting to eat. A lovely girl told me I stopped by just in time because she was about to shut the stand down. It’s nearing 12:00 in the morning, you know that right?”_

_“Really?” Baze peers up at Chirrut who is standing beside him with arms crossed. “It doesn’t feel like it.” He lets out a yawn._

_“You’re literally running on three hours of sleep.” Chirrut flatly states. “You went to bed at two this morning and woke up at godforsaken five. You’ve been up all day, and you’re pulling another all-nighter! Yesterday you did the same thing!” Chirrut reaches over the desk and grabs the first thing his hand touches— a spiral notebook that’s filled with hand-drawn diagrams and color coded notes. Chirrut takes the notebook and rolls it up, proceeding to gently prod Baze with it. “How you’re functioning is beyond me. Eat, and I’m hauling your ass off to bed.”_

_Baze scowls before reaching into the bag. He pulls out what he suspects is a burrito, still warm in its blanket of foil. “Don’t need you to mother me.” He grouches, peeling off the foil sheet and biting into the soft tortilla. Chirrut makes a face._

_“Your mother told me that I’m responsible for you since she’s not around. Congratulations. I’m your mom-friend.” Baze chokes and looks up at Chirrut in disbelief._

_“You’re the one responsible for me? I’m not the punk-ass kid looking for a new fight every day!”_

_“I don’t look for a fight every day.” Chirrut sniffs, mildly miffed. “It’s more like a fight every other week, but that’s only because idiots think I’m too stupid to not suspect a thief trying to shoplift just because I’m blind.”_

_“You’re still a punk-ass kid for going after them when they can be armed.” Baze eyes Chirrut who stubbornly gazes back._

_“I’m from New York.” Chirrut huffs. “Depending on where you live, you learn to take a punch or two, and dodge a bullet. It’s fine.” Baze blinks at this, chewing slowly._

_“Well I’d rather you not ever have to dodge a bullet at all.”_

_“You don’t have to worry about me getting hurt—I can handle myself.”_

_“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m saying that you’re not invincible. I’m saying you’re not bullet-proof. I’m saying that one day—and I hope to God it never happens, or I’ll bury the bastard myself—one day, someone might hurt you, or worse, because they were just a second faster, just one step ahead of you, and I can be a second too late…”_

_A silence engulfs the room and Chirrut sighs._

_“Look,” Chirrut states, letting a hand rest on Baze’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. The college student angrily bites into his burrito and chews with frustration. “What if I laid-off a bit with chasing down thieves? Will that make you feel better?”_

_“I’d rather you not do it at all.” Baze huffs. Chirrut frowns._

_“Me promising that is like a child promising they won’t eat a cookie before dinner. It’s a nice concept, but it isn’t gonna happen.” He grins when Baze messages his temple._

_“I’m not sure whether I appreciate the honesty or not. Law enforcement exists, you know that right?” Baze mutters, peering up at his friend through his fingers. Chirrut scoffs._

_“And? I think I’m doing community service. I’m like… Arizona’s own Matthew Murdock... Daredevil in the flesh. Taking down a thief and waiting for the police department to pick up its trash.”_

 

 

Baze sighs as his children turn to look at him eagerly.

“The first day I met him in person, the fool _broke_ _into my dorm_ while I was in class and I found him sitting on my bed with a shit-eating grin on his face.” Baze recounts fondly. “Within a week he was wearing me thin, and I was expecting him to leave, thinking that I liked the Chirrut on paper and over the phone more than I liked the one in real life.” Chirrut throws his head back and laughs, while Baze’s smile turns to something gentle. “But for some reason he wouldn’t leave and I wouldn’t ask. He ended up staying with me for two years until my graduation and deployment.”

 

 

 

_“So,” Baze begins, peering up from his coffee mug one morning, leaning onto the wall. He’s a month away from graduating with his associate’s and it’s a only a short matter of time when he’ll be left to his own devices— which leads to the next question; where do they go from there? “Are you thinking of studying here?” Baze asks casually._

_“Studying… here?” Chirrut echoes, surprised. It’s been two years since Chirrut had walked in unannounced into Baze’s life and made himself a constant presence. Baze hums and takes a sip, giving Chirrut time to answer. “I mean, I don’t exactly know what I’ll study. Maybe medical practice. Physical therapy? I dunno.”_

_“Physical therapy… I could see that.” A contemplative silence follows._

_“Baze.” Chirrut begins, tone this time a little unsure. “If I went back home, would you come with me?”_

 

 

 “And then?” Bodhi prods.

“I broke his heart.” Baze says calmly, and the children’s keen expressions simultaneously drop into one of shock. “I told him no.”

“You _what_?” Jyn asks, confusion and disbelief coloring her tone. Cassian’s jaw had dropped slightly, eyes flickering between his fathers while Kaytoo stopped chewing the food in his mouth. Bodhi opts to stare down at his plate with a lost expression, as if he was told his whole life was a lie.

“Yep, Baze dumped me.” Chirrut cheerfully confirms. “I told him to come away with me to New York. That idea got vetoed. It was an awkward rejection. Next thing I knew, he was being shipped off to Hawaii. Jerk didn’t even tell me he enlisted until last minute! Said it was a decision made in the heat of the moment— he wanted to see the world.”

“I was young and a different brand of impulsive.” Baze tiredly defends when all his children pin him down with betrayed glances. “Neither of us knew what we were doing with our lives and while Chirrut had already met me half-way, I still needed time to think of what he meant to me. We both needed to get out of Arizona and to sort things out on our own.”

 

 

 

_“Home? You mean New York?” Baze asks, furrowing his eyebrows together. He watches intently as Chirrut rubs the back of his neck, grinning awkwardly._

_“Yeah, I mean… I was thinking…”_

_“You were thinking?”_

_“I think… scratch that— I know I like you!” Chirrut blurts out. “And I miss home. I miss NYC. I miss Brooklyn… But if I left… If I left Arizona, I think I’d miss you just as much.” He bites his lower lip, unsure if it would be wise to continue. Perhaps he had said too much. “I like you okay? And I’ve know you for forever, and meeting you in real life was just a nice bonus, but now I don’t think I’m willing to give that up.”_

_A heavy silence hangs and Chirrut rocks on his feet, his confession leaving Baze speechless._

_“You like me?” Baze croaks. “As in, more than a friend?”_

_“I think I made that clear.” Chirrut takes a step towards Baze who remains frozen in place. “Come to New York with me. We’ll fix up that broken car of yours and drive to Brooklyn together. Your mom can come with us if she wants! We could take our time. We could…” Baze slips from his spot, avoiding the possibility of being trapped in a corner. Chirrut hears the movement and a frown falls on his lips. “You don’t feel the same.”_

_The quiet that engulfs the space between them is oppressive._

_“I don’t… I can’t… I’m not…”_

_“You’re not gay?” Chirrut answers with a wry smile on his face, and Baze lets out a noise of protest._

_“No it’s not that! Or maybe it is… I don’t know. I’ve never liked anybody before; not really… I’ve never considered my own sexual orientation…” The words die in his mouth, and Baze feels ridiculous. He lets his coffee mug down on the countertop and rests both his elbows on the counter’s surface, burying his face in his hands. This conversation did not turn out to be what he had expected…_

_His mind drifts to a memory of Chirrut laughing—how his cloudy, sightless eyes seem to brighten in the sunlight, and Baze remembers deciding that he may not be able to count the colors in the man’s irises, but Chirrut’s eyes are just as striking the way they are—still warm, still lively._

_Another memory flickers—Chirrut dressed in a ridiculous parka jacket, face rosy from the cold; snowflakes melting in his hair…_

_Chirrut giggling into his shoulder… Chirrut, tightly holding onto him, the two of them sitting crisscrossed on the floor getting drunk on New Year’s Eve with a bottle of fireball whiskey..._

_Another memory, and then another…_

_Has it always been this way? Since when did he become an archive of everything Chirrut?_

_“If you don’t feel the same, that’s alright.” Chirrut says nearby, but he sounds so far away and Baze can detect Chirrut striving to keep control of his tone— trying to keep his voice from wavering. “We can still be friends like we are now. That’s fine. Pretend you didn’t hear what I said. But come to New York with me? At least stay for a few days? I’ll show you around. You let me experience Arizona and all its rusted colors. Let me show you New York in all of its golden light.” And there’s a silent plea there, and Baze has his heart in his throat, because how can he pretend that nothing had happened when he just broke his best friend’s heart?_

_“How long?” He croaks, peering up from his hands. “How long have you felt like this?”_

_“Does it matter?” and the question comes out so soft and vulnerable, Baze doesn’t know what to do, because Chirrut is anything but vulnerable._

_“Course it does.” He says gruffly and Chirrut sighs._

_“It hit me a few months ago. You took me out to the cliffs… you know; when we headed up to Grand Canyon National Park. It was mid-sunset and you were telling me about all the colors, and I thought… I thought maybe I wouldn’t mind being beside you for the rest of my life, because I forgot how sunsets can be so beautiful… and maybe… just maybe, I can experience every sunset and daybreak with you.” Chirrut’s voice dies into a pause and he wets his lips. “No one’s ever really tried to be my friend after I went blind—not without pity. I don’t want pity; but you… you never once underestimated me, and you still gave me a chance to see things like I’ve never seen them before.”_

 

 

 

“And after that you just… said no and still _left_?” Bodhi asked, eyes wide. He’s staring up at Baze with confusion. _Baze_ , who _loves_ and _adores_ Chirrut very much. Bodhi’s not a romantic; not really, but if anyone had said that to him, he decides he would’ve taken them by the hand and ran. Perhaps with fear; he doesn't know much about being in love, so it's a scary thought--but looking at his fathers now, he knows that it's real, and he wouldn't mind taking love by the hand and running with it. Together. Forever.

“But you figured it out somehow right?” Jyn insists, looking over to Chirrut who’s wearing an expression of nostalgia. “You figured it out, or else you wouldn’t have gotten married!”

“They did figure it out.” Jie intones as she re-enters the room with a bunch of folded paper in her hands. She eyes Baze with a stern look. “Baze was halfway across the world on his third year of duty, stationed at NSF Diego Garcia in the middle of the Indian Ocean when I received a phone call from him, telling me he couldn’t keep a certain troublemaker out of his head. Let me tell you, Baze was out of it— when he called me, he must’ve forgotten that time zones existed because I woke up to the phone ringing at one in the morning!” When the children follow her gaze to Chirrut, they find the man smiling as if he had achieved something worth of compliment.

“And after two years of sporadic contact, he started calling me as often as he could.” Chirrut explains smugly. “He’d tell me so many stories. Sometimes when his days were uneventful, he’d just make small talk to pass time by. He’d tell me of all the places they were stopping over. His time at sea. Everything… Carl who snored so loudly Baze was so tempted to suffocate him with his pillow. Submarine life sounded like hell.”

“I had to give Baze a little push.” Jie nods, sitting in her seat. “Told him he ought to call that pretty boy of his, because sometimes the good things don’t stick around forever. He got lucky that Chirrut had patience to wait.”

“We were meant to be.” Chirrut shrugs easily and when the kids look over to Baze, all wearing identical smirks, they find the man blushing slightly.

“You were a thorn stuck to my side for two years.” Baze mumbles, but when he looks to his husband, there’s an obvious fondness there that the kids immediately pick out. “Hard to forget someone who had stuck with you in a small apartment for that long and confessed their love for you in a kitchen with an obnoxiously leaking sink. That, and mother threatened to call Chirrut herself, and I quote: _‘expose my little crush’_ if I didn’t get my act together.”

“Awww,” Chirrut teases. “Babe. You had a crush on me! That’s _embarrassing_.” Baze raises an eyebrow.

“Chirrut, we’re married.” He deadpans, and Chirrut giggles, letting his hand rest on Kaytoo’s shoulders.

“Pssst, your father is secretly the biggest sap _ever_.” He whispers loudly into his son’s ear, and Kaytoo side-eyes Baze with mild amusement.

“I know.” He whispers back. “Tough on the outside, soft on the inside!”

“I’m not _soft_.” Baze protests under his breath. “You all keep saying I’m soft. I’m _not_.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Baze.” Jie rolls her eyes. “Everyone here knows the truth.” She proceeds to pass out the folded papers in her hands, causing Baze to groan as the children eagerly begin circulating around the pen-pal letters.

“You were a Boy Scout?” Cassian asks Baze, peering up from his letter with a little quirk to his lips, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh yes he was!” Jie chirps out. “He had his little uniform and his own Swiss army knife and everything! He quit after elementary school though; traded the Eagle Scouts for his academics.”

“Papa, show Cass and Kay your old knife collection later!” Bodhi eagerly pipes up.

“Later.” Baze nods.

“Chirrut,” Jyn speaks up, skimming through her own collection of letters in her hands. “You got in trouble _a_ _lot_.” She peers at her father with interest, and the man beams.

“Oh yeah, I was _very_ _bad_ at school. Baze was the good boy. I was the one who put my toe out of line. Pranks. School fights. Occasionally sass-mouthing my teachers. I was _very_ _bad_.” His lips turn into a frown. “Maybe I should rephrase that. I don’t encourage bad behavior. I’ve matured since then.” Jie snorts loudly and Chirrut grins. “Okay, I matured a _little bit_. But my point still stands. Be better than I was. Unless you have a good reason to let hell break loose— in that case, you have my permission.” At this, Baze looks at his husband with incredulity, which has all four of his children snickering in their seats.

Baze catches matching sly grins from Jyn and Kaytoo that go unshared, and he can’t quench the dread that fills his gut.

_Dammit, Chirrut._

 

* * *

“And how about you, năinai?” Kaytoo asks as all the children pass back the letters to Jie. “What was grandpa like? How did you meet him?” Jie leans back in her seat and smirks.

“I met Liang when I was living in Hong Kong.” Her smug smile widens. “I was in my twenties, and in the 1960’s, women were finally emerging into Hong Kong’s workforce. I was attempting to teach myself medicine at a teahouse when I met him.” Baze is covering his face with his hands when Jie raises a teasing eyebrow. “And Liang was a proper scholar himself. He found me reading my book and thought he could stop by and _chat_.”

“Was it really ‘chatting’?” Cassian wiggles his eyebrows playfully, and Jie reaches over, swatting her grandson on the shoulder.

“He was interrupting my studying so I told him to buzz off. I didn’t need his distractions, and I was going to learn that book myself!” She grins when Kaytoo lets out a bark of laughter. Looking in Jyn’s direction, Jie nods sternly to her smiling granddaughter. “Take notes, Jyn. Actually, this goes for _all_ of you.” She advises. “Don’t let anyone try to butter you up. You’re growing young men and a growing young lady; you have your whole lives still ahead of you—take your time to build yourself up. If they give a damn, they’ll stick around and wait until you’re ready.”

“Yes, năinai.” There’s a chorus, and Jie takes a sip of her tea.

“Good. Now where was I?” She asks, lowering her cup and looking around the table. Baze rolls his eyes.

“You were at the part when you told bà to buzz off.”

“That’s right! Now Baze, your father never left me alone. I’d take my seat by the window and order my usual brew. About an hour later, I would find him slipping into a spot nearby with books of his own. It was madness! And heaven knows why he wouldn’t give up. Very persistent, but he always kept to his own personal space. Soon enough, we were exchanging good-afternoons, and then even later on I would grudgingly ask him for help on understanding the human anatomy if I truly had no clue.”

“So you were barely study buddies then?” Jyn questions, somewhat disappointed.

“What made you realize you liked yéyé?” Bodhi adds in, leaning forward with interest, brows knitted in thought. Jie folds her hands on the table.

“I had competition.” She answered casually while Chirrut snickered in his seat. “It was a rainy afternoon when Liang and I were reading through our notes, not talking. And then a there was this girl who approached us—who approached _him_.” Jie sighs nostalgically. “Her name was Lihua, and she was _beautiful_.”

“I bet you were prettier though.” Jyn states, folding her arms. She had seen the old photos of Jie and Liang before, and her grandparents were indeed attractive individuals in their youth.

“Oh, she was good.” Jie intones. “Charming. _Sweet_. Lihua really was a lovely girl for that one day I have known her. She was _good_ , but I was _better_.”

“What happened?” Cassian asks curiously. Jie sniffed and took her final sip of tea (something Baze suspected was a small act of dramatics.)

“I did what you kids today call ‘ _stepped up my game_.’ She came to study with Liang, you see. She acknowledged me with courtesy, but it was Liang who she turned to for assistance. It had gotten to the point that I felt like a third wheel…completely ignored, and I didn’t like it. Of course, I could’ve left, but I didn’t want to leave either. Later, I found out it was immature jealousy. That day, whenever Lihua asked a question, I took to pretending I had no clue they were addressed to Liang and just blurted out an answer. I had spoken up more that day than I had ever spoken up to Liang alone. After she had left, he looked at me with the most amused expression and I was so tempted to wipe the smirk off his face. He said he had a newfound admiration for my intelligence. It was the most annoying, and yet flattering thing I had ever heard from a man.”

“And you fell in love with someone who annoyed you?” Kaytoo mused, and Jie nodded.

“It took three years. He never forced me into saying yes. He knew his boundaries, and we managed a friendship of sorts. He gave me a bouquet of flowers one day, and I kept them, because they were too beautiful to toss out. I was looking at them one night, and I thought…what the hell?” Jie tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes it still astounds me because I know I didn’t make it easy.” She looked to Baze with a fond, lopsided smile on her lips. “I loved your father though. Every second and every minute after that night I made my choice to give him a chance, I learned to love him and never regretted that decision… It’s part of the reason why I told you to snap out of it and get with Chirrut the night you called me up— because I’ve known love. I’ve known your father’s patience, and Baze— you were just like me; you just needed some time to find your feelings and catch up to the man who was waiting for you half-way, and you just needed a little push to get there.”

 

* * *

 

The three adults are observing the children play a game of soccer from backyard porch— Jyn and Bodhi are on one side of the yard, Cassian and Kaytoo man the other.

“FOUL!” Jyn shouted hoarsely from her goalie’s spot, watching as Kaytoo rolled over to his side after tackling Bodhi to the ground. The two boys are giggling hysterically, sitting side by side, and Bodhi tears a patch of grass and chucks it at Kaytoo’s face. “Bodhi, come on! Get up! We get a direct free kick!” Jyn barks, and Kaytoo is already getting up on his feet when Bodhi pounces onto his brother, the two falling back onto the ground again.

“Cass! Help me!” Kaytoo gasps, attempting to wriggle free from his younger brother who’s got him on a body lock, and he curses his genetics for making him smaller in comparison to his siblings. Kaytoo hears Cassian cheering and he half-scowls, half-laughs because Bodhi Rook is fucking tickling him now and everything sucks.

“Did you ever imagine having this many kids?” Jie asks Baze and Chirrut.

“No, not really.” Chirrut contemplates. “Bodhi was the first, and we were pretty sure he was going to be the last, but the others followed and here we are.” His hand on the bannister finds Baze’s who responds on contact with a little squeeze. Jie watches the action with a fond smile.

“Well, I’m glad.” She says, before directing her attention back to her grandchildren. “I find it such a beautiful thing. How you’ve all found each other…” Baze looks down at his mother, expression soft.

“You and bà found each other first. I’m pretty sure none of us would be standing here today if the two of you didn’t get together.” He places his free hand on the old woman’s shoulder. “I miss him. I wish he was here. I wish he was still alive to see this. To see _us_.” Jie looks up and smiles sadly.

“I miss him too. But his spirit is with us, and I imagine he’d be proud of this little family we have. That we are all here— happy and together. This family feels whole, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here we have the chapter of how Baze and Chirrut got together. Not a full origins story, but there's some snippets in here for you guys to dig into! Hopefully ya'll liked it!
> 
> Also, here's a bit of a cameo appearance from the Skywalkers, because of course the Skywalkers need to be mentioned. It wouldn't be SW without them. I know I mentioned Padme in Jyn's chapter for like, one sentence, so here's a little bit more of what they're up to. I'm sort of sneaking their way into my fic, because dealing with seven characters isn't enough apparently.
> 
> As far as updates go, I'm going to try to do a chapter every weekend. Not sure how well I can stick to that, but if I manage my time wisely, I can definitely fit one in. If not I'll post the next following weekend. Just pretty much be aware that updates will happen on a weekend.
> 
> Now, the story layout: this is where my organization is tripping me up. I'll start with this-- I know how this fic ends. That being said, the next chapters I'm thinking of doing have more of a one-shot nature and will be centered on individual topics that sort of feed into each other but can stand on their own. There are two ways I'm considering about about handling the following chapters:  
> #1) I can continue posting it within this story  
> #2) I can post them up individually and have it labeled as a series, and when I'm ready to tie it all together, I'll post the final installment here.  
> As of right now, I'm still contemplating how to approach this, but be aware that after this chapter, there will be some time skips for the sake of moving the story along
> 
> Fun fact: Setting wise, I envision that we're currently in 2009. I dunno if any of ya'll were curious. I know it drove me crazy and that I had to have an outline of significant years when I was writing this out. So yeah.
> 
> Anyway! Thank you guys for all the support as always--the kind comments--the kudos...everything! It's really a big encouragement and I know I probably sound redundant when I say thank you, but it truly means a lot to me.


	8. Stand By Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaytoo: …  
> Kaytoo: I love you too.  
> Kaytoo: Delete this thread.
> 
>  
> 
> In which there are four times a sibling undergoes some kind of distress or a sense of doubt, and another sibling swoops in to offer moral (and physical) support.

**I.**

(November 2009)

 

Cassian is 15 and in his first year of high school when he figures out his sexuality is definitely not 100% heterosexual, and the realization hits him like a bus.

He’s sitting in Algebra I with his textbook flipped open to page 207, showcasing numerous practice problems on linear equations when a classmate by the name of Bellamy Martinez slides into a desk in front of him.

“Hello group,” Bellamy introduces himself to his peers who are eyeing him with surprise.

Bellamy Martinez is a young man with an angular face— a sharp jawline and defined cheek bones. He has a mess of dirty blonde curls, and hazel eyes that seem to shine with light. His smile is teasing, playful, and friendly. It’s a bit unfair, and Cassian gawks at him.

It’s not like he _hasn’t_ noticed Bellamy before, because he definitely _has_ and has appreciated the student’s aesthetics from afar, but to be this close? Close enough to perhaps count the faint freckles on the boy’s face? Cassian can feel a rush of heat at the back of his neck.

“What do you want Bells?” A girl that sits to Cassian’s left asks. Her name is Shara Bey.

Bellamy pouts.

“I’m just being a good sport, Shara. My group needs answers.” He leans forward and smiles, batting long eyelashes that makes Cassian swallow. The charms are wasted on Shara though, who’s having none of it.

“Go mooch off another group, Bellamy.” Shara folds her arms against her chest. Bellamy turns to the other boy in the group, the one who sits next to him— Andrew Michaels, who, in turn, shrugs.

“Don’t look at me,” Andrew shakes his head. “I haven’t done anything.” He points over to Cassian. “Ask Cass. He and Shara have been powering through the page, splitting the problems between themselves.” Cassian looks at Andrew, horrified. Bellamy however, turns his attention to Cassian, a smile back on his face.

“Cass!” Bellamy stands up from the chair he had taken and walks over to Cassian’s side. Cassian forgets to breathe. “We’re all in this together, right? Sharing is caring? Could you please help a buddy out?” Bellamy is leaning over his desk and peering into his notebook, and he smells like what a bottle of body wash labeled as ‘’Piney Forest” would smell like, and Cassian blurts out,

“I only did the evens!” He looks at Bellamy with hope, and Bellamy pats him on the back.

“It’s all good! It’s definitely something.” Bellamy whips out his phone and snaps a quick picture of Cassian’s work before granting Cassian a bright smile.

“Thank you, Cassian!” He sings before turning away to mooch answers off from some other group. Cassian lets out an exhale of air that he had kept too long to himself.

Shara punches him on the shoulder.

“Did you really have to do that?” She asks, irate. “Bellamy Martinez has the whole world wrapped around his finger just because he’s good looking. You’re just gonna give it to him too?” Cassian gives his tablemate an apologetic smile.

“I was only being nice. He asked politely?”

“Unbelievable.” Shara scoffs, returning back to her work. Andrew shoots Cassian a look that could only be read as ‘what can you do?’ and shrugs; leaving Cassian to blink down at his textbook warily.

_I am so screwed._

Daring himself to peek over his shoulder to the next group, he watches as Bellamy sweet talks a girl named Katelyn Hursh as he jots down some notes on a sheet of paper, provided by someone in Katelyn’s group.

As if he knows he’s being watched, Bellamy looks up and Cassian’s eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. The bastard grins and winks and Cassian feels his oxygen supply get cut. Looking back at his textbook, Cassian pouts to himself before letting his head fall onto his desk.

_I am so fucking screwed._

 

 

LATER THAT DAY

“Bodhi, fix him.” Kaytoo orders, marching into Cassian’s room and shoving Bodhi towards Cassian. Cassian, who had been lying in bed, strumming on his old, beat up guitar, sits up in alarm and eyes his two younger brothers— Kaytoo who’s standing at the door with his arms crossed and wearing a scowl on his face, and Bodhi, who’s standing there out in the open, looking at Cassian with an expression just as lost.

“Kay, what the fuck?” Cassian demands, sitting up and placing his guitar to the side. “Why did you bring Bodhi here?”

“Something happened and you’re not sharing it with me.” Kaytoo sulks.

“And if I won’t share it with you, what makes you think I’d share it with Bodhi?” Cassian asks with an eyebrow raised. “No offence, Bodhi.” He says kindly to his youngest brother, before returning a leveled stare back at Kaytoo.

“Because Bodhi is sugary and kind and he’s the nice brother who won’t give you shit if you spill his secrets to him, duh.” Kaytoo states. Cassian glances at Bodhi who shrugs and he sighs.

“Kay, you’re being ridiculous. I don’t have any secrets to tell.”

“Lies.” Kaytoo states, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve been walking around all day with you head up in the clouds. You’ve holed yourself up in your room to play your guitar, but you’re not even actually playing it. It’s sad and emo and annoying. Something is up, and I’m going to find out eventually.” Kaytoo leaves and closes the door behind him. The two teenagers left in the room listen as his footsteps move away from the door, and Bodhi awkwardly looks at his brother.

“Um.” Bodhi begins. “I can totally leave if you want me to?” Cassian rolls his eyes.

“Nah, you’re good. If you want to stay, stay. I’m not gonna force you out.” Cassian sighs, and Bodhi goes to sit next to his brother.

“So…what _is_ wrong?” Bodhi carefully asks after a minute of silence passes. Cassian side eyes him.

“Honestly? Nothing that big of a deal. Kaytoo’s being dramatic.” Cassian smiles fondly as he crisscrosses his legs and plays with a loose thread on his sweat pants. “But I guess it’s all well-intentioned.”

“You know you can tell us anything though, right?” Bodhi persists, and Cassian laughs, shoving his brother to the side.

“Now you’re just as nosy as Kay.”

“I’m serious, Cass.” Bodhi shoves back with a smile. “Anything— it doesn’t even have to be bad. I know you’re the oldest, and so you make it like you have to be there for all of us, but honestly, it goes both ways. You can tell us anything too.” Bodhi repositions himself and mimic’s his brother’s posture and Cassian also shifts in his place so that they’re both facing each other. Cassian regards his youngest brother with affection.

“I know that, and I really appreciate that. Truly, bumble-Bee.”

“You guys are awful.” Bodhi groans, and Cassian snickers.

“What? Jyn calls you Bee and Bodhi Bee all the time?”

“But the nickname count is climbing!” Bodhi whines. “There’s Bodhi Bug,” He sticks out one finger. “Bodhi Bee. Bumble-Bee. Bee… Jyn called me both Buggy and Body Rock yesterday… _It’s not funny_!” Bodhi pouts as Cassian falls back onto his pillow and just cackles. “You guys are so _mean_.”

When Cassian sits back up, he crawls over to where his younger brother sits and wraps his arms tightly around the frowning boy.

“It’s because you’re the sweetest brother anyone could ever wish for and have.” Cassian says, pulling away and bumping his shoulder against Bodhi’s. The two lapse into silence before Cassian speaks up again, this time more softly. “Do you really want me to tell you though?” He asks, and Bodhi looks at Cassian with his head tilted to the side.

“Only if you really want to. I won’t force you to talk about it.” Bodhi says gently, and Cassian’s lips tug into a small smile.

“It’s gonna sound really silly but…” He licks his bottom lip. “I like someone.” He admits. Cassian looks at Bodhi, his smile weak, and he finds Bodhi blinking at him with surprise.

“That’s…” Bodhi slowly nods, and Cassian’s shy smile morphs into one of amusement. “That’s really great?” Bodhi look at Cassian. “That’s a good thing right? And I guess that makes sense if Kaytoo says you’ve been walking around all day with your head in the clouds.” Cassian nods and lets out a sigh.

“Right? It is a good thing.”

“So what’s she like?” Bodhi asks, and Cassian raises an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about them being a she?” The statement takes half a second for Bodhi to register, and then he smiles.

“Oh, you like a boy? That’s cool. So what’s he like then?”

“His name is Bellamy Martinez.” Cassian starts and grins to himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and Bodhi notes how suddenly Cassian looks years younger. “He has these really pretty hazel eyes, and wild, curly hair. He has freckles on his face that you wouldn’t know exists until you see them up close. He’s charming, and he has a really nice smile.”

“You gonna tell him you like him?” Bodhi says with curiosity and eyeing Cassian with wonder. The smile on the older boy’s lips falls almost immediately.

“No, I can’t.” Cassian quickly states, shaking his head wildly. “I can barely be next to him without feeling like I’m suffocating. He’s perfect and beautiful, and I’m…God, Bodhi… I’m… I’m _just_ _Cassian_.” The rambling boy deflates and gives a defeated laugh, making Bodhi frown.

“ _Just Cassian_?” Bodhi echoes. “You’ll reduce yourself to something as plain as _just Cassian_?” The older boy blinks in confusion as Bodhi clambers out of bed. “Well this is what I think of _just Cassian._ Just Cassian is _amazing_ , okay?” Bodhi begins to pace. “He’s really fucking smart— he helps me with my math homework sometimes when Kaytoo can’t put anything in layman terms.” He glances over at Cassian who watches him stride around, and Bodhi takes note of Cassian’s twitching lips, as if he’s fighting an amused smile. Good.

“Just Cassian is also fucking _brave_ , because if I recall correctly, he saved my ass two years ago from the worst beat down I could’ve received in my life. You see, some asshole punched me on my nose, and _just_ _Cassian_ came down from nowhere and stepped up to help me, even though he had no obligation to because we were strangers to each other. _Just Cassian_ then proceeded to become my best friend, and now he’s my brother in everything but blood.”

Bodhi stops pacing and stares at Cassian with big brown eyes like open windows, and if Cassian could read the look on his youngest brother’s face like a page off a book, it would probably read _“I love you dearly, and please hear me out— don’t ever reduce yourself to something so small as just Cassian…”_

“Just Cassian likes lemon cakes and is a weirdo who dips his fries in chocolate ice cream. He like running and his favorite hobby is watching the news. He wants to be a lawyer when he grows up... Just Cassian is the best big brother in the world and he’s _awesome_ , and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.”

“Bodhi.” Cassian croaks out, and the younger boy folds his arms.

“Yes, _just Cassian_?” Bodhi answers mockingly for effect, and Cassian rolls his eyes before crawling out of bed.

“Shut up, smart ass.” Cassian mutters, bringing his brother in for a hug. “I get it, okay? I get it.”

“Good. You deserve so much more credit than the credit you give yourself.”

Neither boy is sure who is gripping onto the other with more force, but that’s okay—it isn’t a competition; they both love each other very much and that’s all that matters. When they pull apart, Bodhi frowns.

“If you do ever get together, I’ll give him my blessing once he proves himself to me that he’s worth it. He may be pretty, but he better be better than that.” He crosses his arms again, defiantly, and Cassian looks at him with both adoration and exasperation.

“I’ll bear that in mind, bumble-Bee.” He says, and giggles when Bodhi’s toughened façade drops.

“Awful. Just awful.” Bodhi mutters under his breath and glowers at a spot on the carpet. Cassian smiles.

“I love you, little brother.” Bodhi looks up at him and gives a little smile.

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

**II.**

(July 2010. Coney Island)

 

He finds her leaning against the boardwalk’s railing, standing by herself and looking at the sheet of water that surrounds them.

“Hey,” Cassian slides in next to her, and Jyn turns to look at him, smiling a little.

“Hey yourself.”

“I got you an ice cream.” Cassian holds out a cone with three scoops of strawberry ice cream, drizzled with fudged. Her grin grows as she takes the frozen treat from his hands and licks the fudge off from the cone’s side, making a noise of contentment. Cassian chuckles.

“Thank you,” She says in a sing-song voice and gives her attention back to the sea. “What are the others up to?”

“Well,” Cassian begins. “Kaytoo dragged Bodhi to ride the Cyclone with him again, and you know Bodhi— he’s too nice to say no if he doesn’t have a good reason to say no to you.”

“And our dads?”

“Chirrut and Baze are trying to one up each other in one of those dart-throwing-balloon-popping games.” He grins when Jyn loudly snorts.

“And who’s winning?” She asks, flashing him a look of eager curiosity.

“Last time I saw, Chirrut managed to strike down four balloons. Baze managed five.”

“That’s great!” Jyn laughs and bites into her ice cream. Cassian’s smile slowly fades as he studies his little sister.

“And you?” He prompts. “What are you doing out here by yourself?” Jyn turns to look at him, expression serene.

“Does something have to be wrong if I want some time on my own?” She asks, tilting her head to the side. Cassian makes a face.

“Well, no. Nothing has to be wrong. I guess I’m just surprised you’re not dragging us out to the bumper cars or something.” He watches as Jyn shrugs.

“Maybe later.” A fond smile dances on her lips. “I just want to think about some things I guess. The last time I’ve been here was when my parents were alive. I don’t remember much, it’s all just a haze, but I have two photographs that I keep buried in my dresser. I can’t stand to look at them most of the time… not like Bodhi who has his pictures easily accessible.” She looks at Cassian, a crooked smile on her face. “I’d like to think they’re at peace now.”

“They’d want you to enjoy it here, you know.” Cassian begins, tearing his gaze away from her and staring into the water. “But I think I understand, wanting to be alone with your thoughts sometimes.”

“M-hmmmm.” She hums absentmindedly and Cassian awkwardly clears his throat.

“Well, I’ll just go ahead and go then.” He jabs his thumb out behind him in a gesture that he’s leaving and Jyn looks at him in alarm.

“Oh no, you can stay!” She insists, eyes wide. “I don’t mind, now that you’re here. It’s fine! It’s okay!” She draws her lips in a smile, as if it would be enough to persuade her brother that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You sure?” Cassian questions with uncertainty, grasping the railing once again, and Jyn rolls her eyes.

“I’m 100% sure. I’d tell you to leave if I wanted you to leave.” The two exchange smiles before turning to face the water. “I told you one day that I’ll tell you about them.” Jyn softly speaks. Her free hand traveling to her late mother’s necklace. “My mother… She was kind and she was smart. Saw told me that she was a scientist. Apparently she studied anthropology and geology back in college. She met my dad in the campus library and the rest was history.” She frowns.

“And then things went bad. Apparently dad ran with some bad people when he was younger— it’s how he knew Saw in the first place. I don’t understand it much. I was too young to understand, and I guess I never fully will, but one day, some angry people came to our house while dad wasn’t home. My mom told me to hide in my toy box in my closet and made me promise to not make a sound. There was an argument, and the sound of gunshots. I couldn’t make myself leave the room until the police came some time later. It’s just one of those things, you know? The kind of thing when you understand what had happened, even though you’ve never actually experienced it in your life until _that_ point.” Jyn takes a small bite from her ice cream.

“I have never seen so much blood in my life. It was all over the floor, and there laying in the middle of it all was my mother. And then later dad came, and when he did… I had never seen him cry so much.” Jyn’s voice cracks, and Cassian drapes his arm around her.

“And then we were running.” Jyn croaks. “Dad gave me to Saw and would visit as often as he could… and then one day, he just stopped coming around, and I understood.” Jyn licked at her lips. “There was a funeral on a Thursday. Saw had him buried next to mom.” She sniffles, and Cassian rubs at her back soothingly.

“That’s awful, Jyn.” Cassian whispers, and even though Coney Island’s visitors and the sounds of music and waves fill their ears, Jyn hears him over it all.

“He used to call me Stardust,” it comes out shaky and breathless and the tears sting in her eyes. “He’d point out all the constellations at night. He called me his princess, and mom was his queen. He said we both shined brighter than anyone else in the world.” Jyn doesn’t bother blinking back the tears anymore and lets them fall, and Cassian… Cassian wraps both his arms around her and lets her cry.

“Is it okay?” Jyn asks, peering up at him. “Is it okay that I’m still not over it? I feel like I should be moving on by now, but it still hurts sometimes.” She hiccups. “Bodhi doesn’t talk about his mom, but I think he’s already moved on. What if I _never_ move on? I feel haunted.” Cassian pulls away and shakes his head.

“We all cope differently.” He says, voice a bit uneven. “Just because Bodhi doesn’t mourn his mom doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt him to think about her. Or maybe he has moved on— regardless, I’m sure he still misses her in some way. And you… Jyn, your parents will always be your parents, and you’ve seen things that a child shouldn’t have to see. Of course it’s going to hurt.” She lets out a sob, and Cassian pulls her in.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles when she finally detaches herself from Cassian’s embrace. She inhales deeply and gathers some self-control, stiffening her lip to keep it from wobbling. “I’m being silly.”

“You are not silly.” Cassian, grips both her shoulders and ducks his head, touching her forehead with his. “You are strong and you are my little sister and I could never see you as silly— not for something as serious as this.” Her eyes, still wet and shining, looks up to his, which gleams with determination.

“Thank you.” It’s a small quiet thing that escapes her lips, but Cassian nods and kisses her forehead before drawing her in for a hug.

“Of course,” He states. “And thank you…for trusting me.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you for telling me what was on your mind.” Jyn bites into her ice cream and tugs at Cassian’s wrist.

“We should find the others.” She says, sticking close to his side. He smiles down at her, and she looks up at him, a weak grin on her lips.

“And Cass?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re my big brother.”

 

* * *

 

**III.**

(September 2011)

 

“Where did he go? Let me go after him!” Kaytoo snarls heatedly as Bodhi grasps onto his wrists, attempting to reign him in from marching into a mess they will both regret.

They had just left their shared AP Comparative Government and Politics class, Kaytoo now briskly weaving his way through E Hall, Bodhi hot on his heels. Trailing close behind and wearing a concerned expression is a girl named Shara Bey.

“I’m gonna _rip_ his throat out.” Kaytoo seethes. “I’m gonna _carve_ his tongue. I’m gonna—”

“Calm the fuck down and let him go!” Bodhi barks, yanking at his brother’s arm, and Kaytoo lets out a guttural, growling noise from the depths of his throat. Dragging his brother to the side of the crowded hallway, Bodhi forcibly shoves Kaytoo against a locker and stands in front of the livid teenager while folding his arms defiantly across his chest. “You’ve done enough. You chewed his ass out! Let it go.”

It’s passing period, and Bodhi knows that their little intervention is going to make him late for his Introduction to Aviation class. Kaytoo will most likely miss the first few minutes of his AP Physics 1 course, but right now he is staring at Bodhi a bit manically, and Bodhi decides that an angry Kaytoo is more concerning than disappointed teachers.

“I’m not finished with him.” Kaytoo says through gritted teeth.

“Boys!” Shara snaps, and Bodhi turns around, forgetting that Bey had followed them out of the classroom. “We’re all going to be late for our classes!”

“Then you go on ahead!” Kaytoo harshly retorts. “Why do you even care about Bodhi all of a sudden? We aren’t friends, you can leave!” The girl narrows her eyes at Kaytoo before lifting her chin.

“What if I _want_ to be friends? Bodhi and I now share common interests. Military brats stick together. You wanted to know why I care? I care because what Daniels said back in class was pretty damn asshole-ish, but right now, you’re giving him a run for his money. You want me to leave? Fine. I’m leaving then, no need to be a jerk about it.” Turning to face Bodhi, her eyes soften.

“Are you going to be alright?” She asks, and Bodhi gives a rigid nod, and she smiles a bit crookedly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to know. I guess I’ll see you around. I’m already running late for my drills.” Shara awkwardly gives Bodhi a little wave before turning on her heel, ponytail swishing behind her as she stalks out of E Hall, the congested stream of students parting away from her like the Red Sea. After Bodhi watches her leave, he switches his attention back to his brother who is still stewing in his spot.

“Just say the word and the bastard is _dead_.” Kaytoo pledges through gritted teeth, attention flitting past students walking by, and Bodhi narrows his eyes.

“No.”

Once upon a time, it would’ve been Kaytoo looking up at Bodhi, but now the roles are reversed, and Bodhi is looking up at his older brother who towers over him—a figure built of slender muscle, 5’11’’, and looking for a fight.

“He insulted you.” Kaytoo huffs, leaning back onto the lockers and mimicking Bodhi’s crossed arms. “If we weren’t in a classroom, he would’ve said much worse. Jyn and Cass would be throwing punches too… Actually, Jyn would’ve jumped Daniels in the classroom the second that shit left his mouth.” The statement makes Bodhi snap.

“I don’t want anyone throwing punches for me! I don’t need you to throw punches for me! _I can do that_ _myself_! What I need is for you to _listen_ to me when I say that this isn’t worth picking a fight over right now! It’s just _words_ , Kay. Yeah, they fucking _hurt_ , but I’ve been hearing them ever since that plane dropped and the towers fell and those labels are _never_ going away!” Bodhi doesn’t realize that his voice is climbing until the sentence dies in his throat and he catches how Kaytoo shoots a menacing glare to some people walking by, looking at Bodhi with alarm. “Just let it go.” Bodhi murmurs, looking down at his feet. “ _Please, Kay._ ”

When Bodhi looks up, he finds Kaytoo glowering at the ceiling, shifting around his jaw in agitation.

“Kaytoo?” Bodhi asks with uncertainty, deflating with the thought that perhaps he hadn’t broken through to his brother at all. Where is Cassian when you need him? A few excruciating seconds pass before Kaytoo looks down at him, expression unreadable.

“You sure you want me to leave it alone?” Kaytoo asks gruffly. “I could do something low-key. Not my preferred style right now, but if I can’t beat them up, fine. I can hack into the school system and drag their files through the dirt instead. I can _ruin_ their current GPA with a few clicks. I can have them failing every class for both semesters that by the time the year ends, they get held back. Your call.” Kaytoo is eyeing Bodhi attentively and the honesty of his statement makes Bodhi weakly grin.

“That’s not necessary. Believe me when I say that I’ll be okay.” Bodhi holds his stare with his older brother— Kaytoo scrutinizing him through sharpened eyes. After a few seconds, Kaytoo stiffly nods and pushes himself off the wall of lockers, taking note of how his younger brother visibly relaxes.

They leave E Hall, which feeds into the main hallway, in silence, walking side-by-side. A few remaining students are still casually meandering around, and Bodhi eyes the digital clock hanging by the mouth of A Hall in the distance. They have a minute left and Bodhi knows he won’t make it to downstairs K Hall in time. As he makes for the main staircase, he feels a hand grip on his shoulder, and Bodhi stops in his tracks to look up at his brother curiously.

“Text me.” Kaytoo states curtly, and Bodhi rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be fine…” The youngest sighs with mild annoyance. “You’re being dramatic. Nothing’s going to happen. Plus, I’m already late. I don’t need to break rules of no cell phones in class.”

“Then send me a text outside the room or something. Just a one word message that the prick and his friends didn’t try to mess with you.”

“And if they did?”

“Talk shit, get hit.” Kaytoo says in a heartbeat with the most, sincere dark look Bodhi had seen from his brother. Kaytoo’s face then changes to a smile as he playfully shoves Bodhi towards the direction of the stairs. “Now be a good noodle and get to class little bumble-Bee.” Bodhi scowls and starts walking down the steps, holding out his middle finger, which makes his older brother snort loudly.

Bodhi’s not mad at Kay. Not really. Kaytoo just has an overprotective streak hidden beneath a thick layer of grade A asshole, but he’s fine with that. He wouldn’t have Kaytoo any other way…

 

 

FIFTEEN MINUTES EARLIER:

 

“Now,” Mr. Hollingsworth announces, clicking out of his PowerPoint presentation, a blue desktop screen taking its place. “I suppose I won’t bore you anymore with talk of the Russian Federation. We’ll pick up tomorrow on Tsardom with Ivan the Terrible.” As the class begins stuffing notebooks into backpacks and clicking their pens, a few students rise from their seats, causing Hollingsworth to shake his head. “Sit down. Sit down. I am not dismissing you just yet.” A few students groan and Kaytoo, a junior, flashes Bodhi, a sophomore, a look of annoyance.

“Sir, can we _please_ leave early?” A girl in Kaytoo’s year pipes up; she’s dressed in military-esque uniform. Shara Bey. “I have JROTC next period, and I’d like to go prepare.” Hollingsworth smiles apologetically.

“I would if I could, but unfortunately, I can’t let you go just yet. We have some guests going around and speaking with all of the social studies department.”

“Who’s the guest?” A junior boy who sits in the back asks impatiently. Harper Daniels. Hollingsworth raises an eyebrow.

“We have the military here with us today. Some are purple-heart soldiers. Knowing what today signifies, it’ll probably be some patriotic talk. I expect you to drop the tone and actually listen to what they have to say. Give them the proper respect they deserve.” A collection of mutters rips through the class. Harper Daniels leans back in his seat and commences chatting with his friends once again. Shara Bey straightens her posture with newfound eagerness and takes off her backpack, sliding it back under her desk. Bodhi leans over to Kaytoo.

“You think Air Force representatives are gonna be here?” He asks with interest, and Kaytoo shrugs.

“Could be. I mean, they _are_ a military branch.” Kaytoo eyes his brother questioningly. “I know you’ve always wanted to be a pilot, but you never mentioned joining the Air Force. You’ve been thinking about it?” Bodhi shrugs.

“I suppose. I’m halfway done with high school. I figured I should start realistically considering all my options…” Bodhi trails off when the classroom door opens, and a silence blankets the room.

The first to walk through the door is a man with auburn hair on his head and a well-trimmed beard. He’s dressed in uniform and greets the class with a smile. The man that follows next is taller than his companion— he’s dressed in a casual button-down shirt and khaki pants; wavy brown hair frames around a face that bears an unmistakable scar— he has a face just as recognizable as some of history’s most popular figures…

Bodhi’s eyes flicker down to Anakin’s Skywalker’s gloved hand where he knows a metal prosthetic sits in the place of flesh…

“Good morning!” The bearded man introduces as he walks to the front. All eyes follow the two military personnel. “How are we all today?”

“Good.” There’s an automatic response from the audience, and Anakin assess them all with approval.

“This bunch seems livelier than the last class.” He notes, grinning at the man he stands beside.

“Oh yes, the last class seemed half-asleep.” The man nods. “Then again, I suppose learning about American Impressionism at 9:00 is rather dry and uneventful.” He beams. “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m a general for the United States military.”

“And I’m Anakin Skywalker,” The other man drawls, smirking at the exasperated look General Kenobi flashes him. “Purple-heart veteran and ex-general for the U.S. Marines.”

“Now, I was made aware that there are some of you in this class who are graduating this year?” Obi-Wan asks, and three seniors sitting in front raise their hands simultaneously. “Oh that’s excellent!” Obi-Wan praised. “That must be exciting! What are your plans after leaving?”

“College.” A boy sitting in the middle of the two other senior girls states. “I’m studying business.”

“And you?” Obi-Wan prompts the girls. One nods and tilts her head to the boy’s direction.

“Same as him. Business.”

“Biochemical engineering, sir.” The other girl pipes up proudly, and Anakin lets out an impressed whistle— the two men exchanging looks of amazement.

“This is an advanced government and politics class. Is anyone here actually thinking of studying law?” Anakin ponders out loud, and no one raises their hands.

“They’re all just here for the college credit and because it makes their transcripts look good.” Hollingsworth states from his desk in amusement. “Why they chose this class when they could’ve chosen an easier course is beyond me. Only half the class turns in decent essays; the others pull shameless b.s. and throw it on paper the night before. I can’t really complain though, it makes grading fun.” Anakin snorts and Obi-Wan sighs.

“Okay, so none for studying law. How about the military?” He asks. “I see one young lady in uniform. Anyone else?” There’s a pause, and Kaytoo gently taps Bodhi’s foot. Bodhi’s eyes widen as he hesitantly raises his hand.

“Oh, there’s one!” Anakin pipes up, and Bodhi’s face flushes. He looks around at his peers. Some are staring at him— Bodhi, who doesn’t participate much in class, a quiet presence beside his brother Kaytoo who snarks and comments away during lecture, is raising his hand and putting himself on the spotlight. Bodhi lowers his hand shyly, and from the corner of his eye, Shara Bey, who sits nearby, gives him an appraising nod.

“Just two? That’s fine. Which branch are you both looking into?” Obi-Wan queries, and Bodhi turns to Shara, prompting her with a look to speak first.

“Air Force, sir.” Shara states, and Anakin’s lips twitch in a hint of a grin.

“And you?” Obi-Wan asks, nodding encouragingly at Bodhi’s direction.

“I’m going for the Air Force as well, sir.” Bodhi echoes, feeling warmth flood his face. The grin that Anakin wears is more blatant now.

“I used to be in the Air Force myself! Went in straight after high school before switching branches! You kids are gonna have so much fun!” At Anakin’s reassuring beam, Bodhi tentatively smiles back and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear, trying to keep his clammy hands busy.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan’s eyes leaves Bodhi for a second and locks his attention to a young man raising his hand at the back.

“Yes, do you have a question?” Obi-Wan addresses eagerly.

“Yes sir, I do.” Harper Daniels nods in affirmation, leaning forward in his seat. “I’m probably going to get called out for this, but whatever. Free speech. Anyway, that kid’s Arabic. How do you feel about Muslims fighting for our country? The same people who caused 9/11 and hate the Western world?” There’s a silence, and the smile on both Anakin and Obi-Wan’s faces slip. Bodhi freezes in his seat, and Kaytoo spins around in his chair.

“Daniels, that question is inappropriate.” Hollingsworth scolds from his desk wearing a deep frown. Harper crosses his arms.

“Sir, it’s September 11— many people lost their lives today. Many people in the military lose their lives to protect us from people like _him_. You say that in this learning environment, we are free to speak our minds. I made a curious question. _They_ can answer it however they like.”

“ _Daniels_ ,”

“Bodhi’s not even Arabic, you dense, useless sack of bolts!” Kaytoo blurts out.

“ _Kaytoo_!” Hollingsworth reprimands with a raised voice, and Bodhi hisses his brother’s name in alarm, but Kaytoo is fired up and ready to drag this sorry boy through the dirt.

“First of all, number one: for you information, Bodhi’s is _Pakistani;_ his family is originally from _Pakistan,_ and if you know anything about Geography, you would know that Pakistan is a country in _South Asia_ , a different region from _South West Asia_ , a.k.a. “the Middle East,” so congratulations on playing your stereotype card, because every Asian with brown skin who doesn’t look like the stereotypical white Asian is automatically Indian or Arabic, right? But why does this even matter, because Bodhi is Brooklyn born-and raised, so he can claim his American identity, just like you and I can claim to be American even though ethnically our blood comes from somewhere else!”

“But—” Harper Daniels cuts in, narrowing his eyes. Kaytoo doesn’t let Daniels speak.

“Number two: Way to play your stereotype card again, by assuming that Bodhi is _Muslim_. How do you know he’s not _Christian_? How do you know he’s not _atheist_? Agnostic? Buddhist? Hindu? For fuck’s sake, he can be a _Satanist_ and playing with dark magic at night!” Bodhi hides his face in his hands. “You think Islam is the only religion with its nutty extremists? Who use religion to back their political and economic agendas? Buddy, do I have news for you.” Kaytoo lets out a laugh which sounds sarcastic and forced.

“How about the messed up things people have done in the name of Christianity? Oliver Cromwell, military and political leader of England, tried to justify the genocide of Catholics. Or perhaps the Crusades ring a bell? The Spanish Inquisition? Or that one time when people used Christianity to defend the slavery system? How about when the Buddhist majority in South Vietnam faced religious discrimination by their Catholic leader, which resulted in a monk martyring himself by burning alive?”  

“Mr. So, I think that’s enough.” Hollingsworth states from his desk, but Kaytoo shakes his head.

“I’m not done. I don’t want anyone to think that I’m just pissing on Christianity, because I’m not. The Qing Dynasty in China had waged war against its own Muslim minority during the Dungan Revolt in the 1800s and had no problem with murdering up to roughly 12 million people. The Muslims made their fair share of crimes in the name of conquest. We can look beyond religion—history always repeats itself. Each _culture_ has its own crimes of rape and pillage and murder, but that history that you’re connected to, simply by just _living_ doesn’t define who _you_ are now does it?” Kaytoo shifts his jaw.

“I don’t believe in a God, but Bodhi’s my brother, and I don’t give a damn about what he believes in because Bodhi chooses to be a good person and _follows his own damn moral compass_ , so if you think for one second that I’m just going to let you subtly call _my brother_ a _terrorist_ , you have another thing coming for you!”

Kaytoo spins back in his chair, facing the two soldiers at the front of the class, raising an eyebrow, challenging them to object.

“Well, you aren’t wrong.” Obi-Wan slowly begins, eyeing Kaytoo whose posture is stiff, jaw shifting around, while Bodhi tries to make himself smaller. “Whatever your race is, whatever religion you choose to believe in is—yes, they are part of your identity, but each and every one of you are capable of being more than that. What makes you who you are is what you hold in your heart and what you _choose_ to be. It’s the gift of being human—being biologically wired to have the capability to form and carry out your own decisions and values.”

“You’re asking how we feel about people like _him_ fighting for our country?” Anakin begins, staring at Daniels dead in the eye, his face hard, eyes cold. “I’ve had my hand cut off. I’ve received third degree burns throughout my body. I look in the mirror every morning and count the scars on my skin that will never go away. I tell myself that I’m lucky to be alive, and curse myself at the same time because my brothers that are dead won’t have the privilege to see their own families—why should I be any different? I was their general—I should be with them.” Anakin licks his dry lips.

“I _hate_ my enemies. For what they have done to me. For what memories they have left me with. I wake up at night, dreaming that I’m being burned all over again because of them. But that’s all. I hate my enemies. Not the people in general, if that makes sense. I have seen the casualties of war. The women. The children. The civilians. I have seen what this war has done, the damage brought on by _both_ sides. You ask me how I feel about people like _him_ who want to fight for this country? I think it’s _brave_. Brave because people like _him_ are first labeled with suspicion before their personalities are known. Brave, because they’re willing to sacrifice themselves for a country that looks at them with fear. We came to visit today because 9/11 should never be forgotten. We visit today, because while the whole country mourned, New York bears the scar. We visit today to remind you that as a country, we need to heal _together_ , and that doesn’t happen when we push out people like _him_ , who have good intentions and want nothing more than to be seen as American and more than the labels tacked on their bodies.”

There’s an engulfing silence, and the dismissal bell for third period rings. There’s a sudden rush as students begin to gather their belongings, heading out the door with backpacks slung over one shoulder, eager for an exit.

(Shara Bey casually hangs around her seat and takes out her cell phone, pretending to text a message.)

Kaytoo stands by Bodhi’s desk, eyeing Harper Daniels’ back through narrowed eyes, while he waits as Bodhi slips his backpack on.

“Kaytoo, a word.” Hollingsworth waves a hand and Kaytoo scowls but obeys, leaving his brother’s side and stalking to his teacher’s desk.

“That was quite the speech there, Anakin.” Obi-Wan says, but Anakin lets the statement go ignored, approaching Bodhi’s table instead.

“Your name is Bodhi, right?” Anakin asks the teenager, wearing an uncertain smile. Bodhi nods mechanically.

“Yes, sir. Bodhi Rook.” The statement makes Anakin weakly smile as he takes in Bodhi’s cautious stare.

 “How long have you been interested in the Air Force, Mr. Rook?”

“Not long, sir.” Bodhi chews on his lip nervously, watching as Obi-Wan makes his way to Shara Bey. “I’ve been considering it for the past few months. I know I want to pilot a plane though. I’ve always wanted to do that since I was a boy.”

“That reminds me of Luke.” Anakin muses, his face turning soft, a huge difference to the hardened stare he wore earlier. “He’s stuck on being a pilot too.” He asses Bodhi kindly. “Don’t listen to what that young man earlier had said. There’s a possibility he may be lashing out due to loss of a loved one. Or maybe he truly is an asshole. I try harder these days to not judge too much at first.” Anakin smiles wryly. “It doesn’t excuse his behavior though. Anyway, the Air Force could use a young man like you.”

Bodhi ducks his head, and Kaytoo approaches, punching him gently on the shoulder.

“Have a good day sir. Thank you for the speech.” Kaytoo stiffly acknowledges Anakin who returns the distracted, irate look with amusement. “C’mon Bee. Let’s get to class.” Kaytoo studies his brother’s face with concern first, before taking long strides for the door, a determined look set on his face that Bodhi doesn’t miss. Flashing Anakin a look of mixed distress and apology, Bodhi utters a quick goodbye and a word of gratitude before rushing after his older brother. Shara Bey withdraws from her conversation with Obi-Wan and manages a courteous goodbye, before trailing after the two boys…

 

 

LATER

 

Bodhi forwards Kaytoo a quick text as he approaches his Aviation class.

 **Bodhi:** There. Made it safe. Told you I’d be fine. This is stupid.  
(Read- 10:01)

 **Kaytoo:** Well I guess I’ll thank God you’re ok.  
(Read- 10:01)

 **Bodhi:** You’re welcome.  
(Read- 10:01)

 **Kaytoo:** Very clever Bee haha. Ha.  
(Read- 10:01)

 **Kaytoo:** Wait… are you in class right now?  
(Read- 10:01)

 **Bodhi:** Nope. Outside class.  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Kaytoo:** Put you phone away and go to class!  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Bodhi:** You put your phone away  >:(  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Bodhi:** I  <3 you though ttyl  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Kaytoo:** …  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Kaytoo:** I love you too.  
(Read- 10:02)

 **Kaytoo:** Delete this thread.  
(Sent- 10:04)

 

* * *

 

**IV.**

(January 2013)

 

“I’m not gonna get in.” Kaytoo mutters to himself, pacing his bedroom and grabbing at his hair. “They’re going to reject me. I’m not going to make it in.” He feels his heart race and adrenaline courses through his veins.

His stomach feels sick.

Kaytoo thinks he might throw up.

“I’m just wasting my time. I’m wasting _their_ time.”

A knock sounds on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” He croaks, the sound of his tone hoarse. The door opens half-way and Jyn pokes her head, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“We can hear you wearing the floors thin from downstairs.” Her furrowed eyebrows raise at the sound of frustration that Kaytoo makes and she takes in the sight of her brother raking fingers through his hair. “Cassian’s in the bathroom right now though, and I told Shara and Bodhi that I would take care of it. Baze and Chirrut are in the garage by the way.” Jyn enters the room and shuts the door behind her. “So what’s up?” She asks, sitting down on Kaytoo’s bed. Kaytoo glares at her.

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Try me.” Jyn lifts her head and Kaytoo eyes her skeptically before pacing again.

“Fine. You know how I applied for MIT?” He begins, and Jyn blinks.

“Yeah? So what? That’s it? You applied to some fancy-snazzy college and you’re getting stressed out over it?” The look she receives is murderous.

“ _No_.” Kaytoo growls. “Well yes, I applied to a fancy-snazzy _university_ , only one of the most notably prestigious ones, but it’s _more_ than that. MIT has an 8% admission rate, meaning out of 100 people they receive admissions from only eight get accepted.”

“Okay, that’s a bit scary.” Jyn admits. “But why are you scared? You’re the smartest person I know.”

“That _you_ know.” Kaytoo mutters, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m scared because I applied for early admission, Jyn. I’m scared because I requested for an interview out of hopes that I can be a part of that 10.8% that gets accepted for doing a non-required interview, as opposed to taking my chances and being part of the 1% who make it in _without_ doing an interview. I’m scared because I’m probably gonna fuck it up. I’m scared because my interview is on Tuesday, two days from now, and I sort of want to die.” He stops pacing and looks pleadingly at his sister who’s gaping at him from where she sits.

“I’m not going to make it in.” His voice cracks, and Jyn looks at her big brother, truly looks at him and takes a moment to think— sarcastic and a bit of an ass-wipe Kaytoo, who is secretly a sweetheart deep down inside; her big brother who she used to stand taller in comparison when they were younger, but now he towers over her and can pick her up with one arm. Her big brother who rarely shows his insecurities to the world, now showing her that he’s _scared_ in the safe confines of his room.

Scared that his identity, who he is: intelligent and innovative to the bone, will not be good enough. An identity he had crafted for himself since he was young.

“Kay,” Jyn states quietly, slowly standing up. “Kay, that’s not true.”

“They’re gonna hate me.” He laughs in self-deprecation. “I can’t seem to open my mouth without sounding like I’m sarcastic, or I’m arrogant, or like I’m a jerk; sometimes a mixture of all three…” The smile he gives her is so pained, it kind of breaks her heart. “I have no filter and I don’t play well with others.”

“Also not true.” Jyn states simply. “Yeah, you can be mean sometimes, but that’s…” She struggles with finding the right words to say, and Kaytoo rolls his eyes.

“See, even you can’t justify it.” He giggles a bit feverishly and Jyn frowns, marching forward and taking her brother by the wrist, dragging him back so he could sit on the bed with her. Kaytoo doesn’t fight the gesture.

“You’re smart.” She tells him, looking at his side profile as he gazes blankly into space. “You’re intelligent. You’re graduating at the top of your class.” She swallows. “Yeah, you sometimes come off as a bit… jagged, but you have your moments too. The good moments. The moments when you say something and everyone stops and stares because it was _that_ attention _grabbing_. You can wing this interview, Kay. I know you can, because you can pull off _anything_ you set your determination on. You go down swinging; you _always_ _have_.” She rests her head on his shoulder.

“If MIT rejects you, then that’s their damn loss. You move on. Apply for more fancy-snazzy universities until one picks you up. You take the offer that accepts you— the one you like the most, and you show MIT up, and become the best damn aerospace engineer the world has ever seen.” She pick her head up off Kaytoo’s shoulder and looks at him, finding that he’s staring back at her with gratitude.

“You mean that?” He asks. “You truly think I can wing it?”

“Course I do. I wouldn’t say it if it weren’t the truth.” She holds out her little finger. “I swear it on my pinky.” Kaytoo eyes the finger with amusement.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” He asks, reluctantly hooking his finger with hers anyway. Jyn shakes her head.

“Chirrut told me you’re never too old for pinky promises. Well I _promise_ you that everything is gonna be fine. I _promise_ you that the world won’t end in the worst case scenario that they say no. I _promise_ you that who you are doesn’t end with MIT.” She looks at him fiercely, never breaking contact, and Kaytoo’s doubtful expression slowly morphs into one of softness and then trust.

“Okay,” Kaytoo nods. “Okay, Jyn. I believe you.”

“Good.” Jyn states. She stands up from the bed. “You better. Now, do you wanna come downstairs? Shara brought a twister mat with her and we were going to play as soon as Cass was done taking a leak.” Kaytoo weakly smiles as Jyn scrunches up her face.

“Nah, maybe later. I’ll try to go over some possible interview questions. Practice some answers. Stuff like that.” He stands up from his bed as Jyn shrugs.

“Okay, well, whenever you’re ready, just come down okay?” She asks, before making her exit.

“Jay, wait.” Kaytoo prompts when Jyn puts her hand on the door handle. She turns around, surprised. Kaytoo doesn’t say her nickname. Not really. Cassian, Baze, and Chirrut rarely ever do it, mainly because her name is already one syllable. It’s Bodhi’s thing to shorthand her name.

“Yeah?” She asks casually, keeping her surprise out of her tone.

“Thank you.” Kaytoo awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “It means a lot. Really.”

“Yeah, no problem Kay.” She gives him a little smile. Before she knows it, he’s approaching her and engulfing her in a hug.

“You tell the others that I hugged you, and you’re dead to me.” He warns playfully as Jyn tightly holds him back. She silently laughs into his shirt.

“Please, you think they’d believe that?” She pulls away with a raised brow. “Kaytoo giving away free hugs?”

“Probably not.” Kaytoo considers. “But Shara won’t let me live, and Bodhi will be just as bad.” Jyn grins and opens the door.

“Well, if it feeds your ego any, you give some of the best damn hugs, and it’s a shame that you don’t share them that often.”

 

* * *

 

**(+1)**

(October 2016)

 

Baze and Chirrut sit next to each other on the couch. It’s a quiet, autumn Sunday night and they have the windows open— the sounds of crickets outside filling the living room.

“Damn thing won’t connect.” Baze grumbles in agitation as he eyeballs the loading screen on his Skype application. “This is taking too damn long.”

“Patience, love.” Chirrut sings.

“Did you check the Wi-Fi connection?” Jyn asks as she emerges from the kitchen, a mango smoothie in her hand. Baze shoots his daughter a look.

“I’m not _that_ old Jyn.” Baze states at his teenager who snickers as she sits on the empty space at his side.

“Give it a moment then.” She nods and stares at the screen. The loading sign proceeds to disappear, and they connect.

“AYYYYYY!” Bodhi exclaims as all their faces appear in a separate window. Beside Bodhi’s smiling face is Shara who waves at them enthusiastically. Cassian is laughing, and Kaytoo is rolling his eyes, but grinning fondly all the same.

“Did Baze forget to check the Wi-Fi connection again?” Cassian asks teasingly, and Baze groans, hiding his face in his hands.

“You kids are never going to let me live that down, are you?” Baze asks, wiping at his face tiredly, but looking at the camera with affection.

“God no.” Bodhi shakes his head.

“So how have you all been?” Chirrut asks.

“Professor Orson Krennic is a douche-nozzle!” Kaytoo explodes. “I just finished his essay just FYI. He’s so pretentious! All he ever does during lecture is piss and complain about his beautiful invention and how its plans got stolen from him and how he got no credit for it, and now because of that, he’s stuck teaching us heathens because he has no life, which leads to a thirty minute tirade about plagiarism and copyright and trademarking, and it’s like… _I don’t care_?” Kaytoo grabs at his hair. “He’s an awful professor! Why the fuck he’s at MIT, I have no clue. Can he go teach somewhere else?”

Cassian, Bodhi and Jyn are laughing as Kaytoo scowls.

“Glad to know my pain brings you all amusement.” He states dryly, and Cassian runs his fingers through his hair.

“Stanford is nice,” He begins. “Everything’s been going well. Lots of reading, but that’s nothing new.” He nods at Jyn’s direction. “And thank you for the care package, guys! The sweater you stitched me was really sweet, Jyn.”

“I figured you’d like it!” She says brightly back.

“I haven’t got my sweater yet.” Kaytoo sulks and Bodhi smiles smugly before standing up and displaying Jyn’s hand-knitted sweater on the screen— black with a bumblebee on it. There’s a synchronized “aw” coming from everyone else and Kaytoo sticks out his tongue.

“I miss you guys.” Shara says to no one in particular.

“And how’s the Air Force Academy coming along?” Baze asks, and Bodhi sighs tiredly.

“The days are long,” He begins, scratching at his nose. “But I’m pushing through it.” He side eyes Shara slyly. “Little Miss Bey has it going on though.”

“Fuck off, Rook!” Shara snaps, bumping Bodhi’s shoulder and ducking her head to hide her embarrassment.

“Ohhhhh.”  Jyn and Cassian synchronously say together, wiggling their eyebrows in unison. “Someone’s got a crush.”

“I do not. Bodhi tells lies.” Shara says defensively, but there’s no mistaking the blush growing on her face.

“His name is Kes Dameron!” Bodhi pipes up, grinning manically as Shara tries to take a swing at him, but he catches her wrist. “She saw him working out earlier—” Bodhi yelps when Shara licks his face as they struggle on screen. “Shara, you’re gross!” Bodhi cries, shoving her playfully to the side, while their audience shakes with laughter. “Anyway, she looked like she was ready to climb him up like a tree! OW!” For a long moment, Bodhi and Shara’s window is empty but the backdrop of someone’s dorm room and the sounds of a playful scuffle.

“Shara’s gonna kill him.” Kaytoo notes with amusement as they hear Bodhi shout and Shara let out a war-like cry.

Baze misses his boys, and when he looks over to Jyn, watching her as she giggles madly in her seat, slurping her smoothie, he feels his heart sink.

Chirrut rests his head on Baze’s arm, as if to sense what’s on his husband’s mind.

It’s a bittersweet moment, all unraveling before Baze’s eyes. His kids have grown fast, and one day soon, Jyn will be the next to leave.

He’s not sure if he’s ready to let her go just yet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made the decision to keep everything within this fic. Organization wise, most future chapters will follow this format: 1.) the chapter's overall theme 2.) how each of the children connect with the theme 3.) a little piece on Baze and Chirrut at the close.
> 
> I hope this chapter went well! I wanted to do more relationship-dynamic building, and I hope I did that okay? I know I expanded on Bodhi & Kaytoo's part a bit much, but to be honest I had the part planned out for a while now, it was just the struggle of fitting it somewhere, and I thought it would fit well in this piece. I have finally tied in a Skywalker with a cameo appearance from Obi-Wan! 
> 
> Also, there's that brief mention of Orson Krennic, who I envision as that old professor that no one likes, with a flair for dramatics and some slick sense of style, but he's there and what are you gonna do? 
> 
> And Shara Bey! Family friend of the Rogues, but she's total bros with Bodhi. I envision her being acquaintances with Cass in this universe, prior to her meeting Bee, and when this little moment happens, she's like, fuck it--I WILL make friends with this precious boy even though his two brothers are a bit nuts. Plus, she's Poe's mom, and so that's one way I can link this universe in a TFA modern au (which will take place in this fic, unless I decide to branch off later, but that's a decision for the future).
> 
> And yes, I totally headcannon Cass as bisexual. I like rebelcaptain, and I like him with Bodhi, but in this universe, they're obviously siblings, so those ships aren't happening, but I'm still sticking to Cassian is bi.
> 
> Also, if you haven't done so yet please please PLEASE check out Reidluver's fic 134 Days! It's beautifully written and I see it as an extension of this work--covering the more difficult side of adoption with grace! Seriously, it's wonderful stuff! Link is below!  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/9642143/chapters/21783185


	9. AN AUTHOR'S NOTE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (( will be deleted when the next actual chapter is posted ))

Hey guys,  
  
I guess I want to start off with the fact that I feel cruel posting this up as a chapter. I’ve left this fic for about a month without an update and you guys probably thought this would be a legit chapter… but it’s obviously not; and I’m sorry for that.

On top of all the outside forces that have been dragging me down lately, I’ve hit a pretty big writer’s block. I just don’t know where to go from here? There were so many topics I wanted to cover—so many scenes I had in my head that I wanted to share, but every time I wrote them out, they fell short. I also tried to wrap up the story, just for kicks, and that felt wrong too. True, I could just post what I have; but you guys deserve more than that. This story, which I have _loved_ writing out, deserves more than that.

Which leads to the biggest point of this author’s note—I think I’m going to take an indefinite hiatus. I know that it’s not uncommon for an author to leave their fic as a WIP for months or longer without a word; but for this fic, dropping off the map doesn’t sit right with me. I feel like I owe it to you guys to at least explain what’s going on. You guys who have been _so_ _sweet_ and honestly helped make building this universe a blast. There was a few of you who have told me in the comments how you could connect to this fic in some aspect, and I wanna tell it to you guys that I keep that in my head as I write.

This writer’s block has been bothering me for what feels like ages, and I felt awful not posting an apology. But I just feel so burnt out now, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

Anyway. I don’t know when the next update will be posted up. It can be a month from now… or five…or a year. _But I’m not abandoning this._ Out of all the fics I have ever written, from my days at HPFF to FF.net, it’s _this_ fic that I can honestly say I’ve bonded myself to and I _want_ to see it finish strong. I _want_ it to have a happy ending. I _want_ it to have closure. The struggle is just getting there, and I'm not giving up on that; not really. I just need to...detach myself for a little while?

I hope you guys are still willing to wait for this fic to come around? Whenever that point will be? Again, I’m really really sorry. You guys have been the best, and for that I'm so appreciative. I know I say it all the time in my replies that I probably sound like a broken record machine, but you guys are the best. I wish you all well.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [134 Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642143) by [Reidluver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reidluver/pseuds/Reidluver)




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